Rhyme of Another Autumn
by kitsuneshadow47
Summary: Merlin is a shy café waiter who cares too much, taking pleasure from the small things in life. Arthur works two part-time jobs after being kicked out onto the streets by his homophobic father. Once upon a time, two boys fell in love, and Merlin's smile was a question Arthur wanted to spend his whole life answering. They just needed to find each other again. Inspired by Amelie.
1. Prologue

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

**Pairings~** Merlin/Arthur. Side pairings of Gwen/Lancelot, post-breakup!Arthur/Gwen, very minimally hinted/mentioned Morgana/Morgause, Merlin/Mordred, and more.

**Warnings~** Reincarnation/Modern AU, fluff, cursing, some references to homophobia, mild violence, mild smut, S5 spoilers (for y'all who aren't quite there yet ^^")

**Disclaimer~** I do not own Merlin in any way, shape, or form. But Arthur most certainly can. X"D

**Kit's Notes~**

Written for paperlegends' **Merlin Big Bang 2013**. Many thanks to **Robin** and** Charleigh**, my awesome betas. Thanks for putting up with me, guys! I couldn't have done this without you, and it was really great meeting you this year. I love you both. :) Special regards to **Abbey**, **Stephanie/Nari**, **Cee**, **Georgie**, **Nathaniel**, and **Caitlin**, who have all been with me on this since the very beginning, and a big thank you to everyone (especially everyone on here on FF) who's read my fics before since this will, sadly, be my last one! :')

I'd especially like to give my eternal gratitude to my lovely artist** Morgan** for drawing unimaginably gorgeous art to accompany my fic and for being so nice to me the whole time during this experience. All of her beautiful work can be found on her **AO3** via **mellowmorgan**! Most of all, thanks to** the_muppet** for being awesome since she made everything possible for this final Big Bang! ^_^

As a final note, I hope you all enjoy! :3 (*This is also posted on**AO3** for those of you who wish to read this with **embedded pictures** or download the** fanmix**, which can be found on the** LJ masterpost**! :D)

~o~

.::.*~_PROLOGUE_~*.::.

The time was 8:00 a.m. A calm spring breeze brushed past the flourishing trees of Camelot. The bright golden sun loomed over Grand Albion Station, illuminating the few lingering shadows that were scattered unevenly. The aisles were full of early-morning commuters scrambling to make it to their destinations on time, shoving past one another for the best seats on their respective trains.

A little boy, hidden under a long, blue blanket, held the hand of an elderly man as they got off a passenger car that had just returned from Ealdor. His hair was dark as night and his eyes, still drowsy from an hour and a half's worth of slumber on the train, shimmered in the morning light like the finest sapphires placed under heaven's keep.

His name was Merlin Emrys, and he had just turned 10 years old.

~o~

As a boy, Merlin was an only child. He had been pampered and homeschooled by his mother and father. They had been far too overprotective to allow him to interact with other children, so he had never had a real friend in his childhood—aside from Will, his next door neighbour. He had grown up to be quite skinny and frail for his age with a terrible asthma condition, which made Hunith and Balinor Emrys all the more cautious of their one and only son.

For this reason, Merlin had found himself living in a minuscule world, barred from seeing the delights of the great outdoors; so he dreamed of exploring life beyond the walls of his cramped bedroom.

Then one fateful afternoon, a hurricane emerged completely out of nowhere from the shores of Ealdor and ravaged the whole village, including the Emrys home. Most tragically, it took the lives of both Merlin's parents and left the poor boy—only five years old—traumatised and confused.

He'd never meant any harm. He'd always been so kind and gentle, just as his mother had taught him... But never had he been so angry—frustrated that he couldn't have the normal life that other children could. All he had done was raise a finger. A _finger, _and in a split second, everything was gone before his eyes.

Left with nowhere else to go, he'd been forced to wander aimlessly from alley to alley until the cold morning that Gaius discovered him shivering under an empty cardboard box. Gaius was an old general practitioner who'd been retired from his occupation for seven years.

After he'd felt the child's forehead burning hot with fever and found him alone without a single soul to care for him, the elderly man had taken young Merlin under his wing, tending to the boy as if he were his own.

Since then, Gaius had become a hand for him to hold, a voice to guide him, and someone who would help him find a purpose for his "gifts." Escaping a troubled past of his own, he accompanied Merlin to help him start anew. Later, Gaius made plans to take him somewhere more peaceful and as far from Ealdor as possible. In the end, he'd found the perfect place: a town that was still extremely small, but wider than Ealdor had been.

A town called _Camelot_.

~o~

After a while, the two decided to settle at a bench over by a newspaper stand. Gaius let out a sigh, crouching slightly to fix Merlin's blanket as the young one sat down.

"Alright Merlin, I'll only be gone for a minute to get us something nice to drink," the elder man spoke in a fond tone. "Please don't do anything rash until I get back."

Merlin raised his head to meet his caretaker's gaze, then nodded meekly with a small, happy-go-lucky grin on his face before Gaius left to talk to the woman at the cash register.

"Good morning, madam. Two bottles of water, if you please..."

Merlin fidgeted in his seat, eager blue eyes wandering over his surroundings and watching numerous passengers embark and disembark from the nearby trains. Just as he had always been, Merlin listened obediently when he was asked not to do something that would get him into serious trouble.

However, after five years under the retired physician's care, learning more about the "gifts" fate had chosen to bestow upon him, he had also grown up to be a more energetic—sometimes even reckless—young warlock with an insatiable curiosity greater than all the knowledge in the world put together in one box. This curiosity overcame him in an irresistible urge to explore the other parts of the station, possibly make new friends, and find more things to test his special talents on. He hoped to take a step forward in controlling his powers for a purpose more beneficial to mankind, just as Gaius had told him he should.

Merlin wriggled to his feet and ran off just as the cashier turned around to hand the bottles to his caretaker. Right before the little one was about to pass the newspaper stand, he spotted a family close by and stopped short. They were seated on another bench just a few feet away and waiting for their own train to take them abroad.

Now these weren't the sort of people Merlin had seen back in Ealdor, although they would have seemed to be if they weren't wearing such prim and proper clothing. From how they were all dressed—the women in silk and the men in satin—he could definitely tell this family was excessively wealthy. But of the four, there was only one that completely caught his attention: a blond-haired boy who seemed just about a couple years off from the young warlock, fully clad in red and brown as he stood tall and proud at the edge of the group.

For a moment, Merlin was forced to look down at his own worn-out and tattered clothes before glancing over again at the blonde's probably soft, probably _comfortable_ mini-blazer. The second he decided to raise his gaze though, he found the other boy looking right at him.

Merlin bolted in the opposite direction, as far as his small legs could take him, away from the family's range of sight. He hadn't even realised until he had long passed the newspaper stand that he was standing all alone in a surprisingly vacant area of the train station. Left with nowhere else to turn, his endlessly overflowing curiosity impelled him to wander around just a little more, with Merlin thinking that perhaps, in time, Gaius would find him.

Merlin let out a sigh, observing the intricate architecture of the building before turning to gaze up at the moving clouds through the skylights above. Before long, he found himself staring down at the train tracks, wondering how far it was to get from the platform he was standing on to all the way down there.

It probably wouldn't hurt to climb down and see for himself. After all, he _did _have his gifts to protect him as needed, so what could possibly go wrong?

The young warlock took a deep breath, glancing contemplatively at the dark tunnel at the other end. The next train might not arrive for a while, so he'd most likely be out of there by then...

After thinking on this for a few minutes, he swallowed hard and finally began to carefully climb down towards the gravel between the tracks. He found himself entranced by his surroundings, taken aback by the way that the whole path looked just like a smaller tunnel, extending out into an even bigger tunnel but ending God knows where.

Merlin's eyes lit up with delight as he shifted to take another step when suddenly a shout from not far away stopped him short:

"_You idiot! What in the world do you think you're doing!? Get out of there!"_

In a split second, Merlin was broken out of his daydream. Before he could even whip his head around to search for the person in question, he heard a loud shrill sound of a horn and solid wheels scratching against steel and froze.

But just as he turned around with a gaping mouth to face the front of the oncoming metal behemoth, he felt himself being shoved hard to the ground between the two rows of rusted steel.

~o~

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the blaring sounds from up above, waiting for death to claim him.

Merlin Emrys: the boy who was killed by his own uncontrollable curiosity.

It would be all over the news in a flash, and Gaius would be heartbroken. At least he'd have a chance to see his mother and father again, if God would forgive his recklessness and open the gates of heaven for him. Deep from within, the young warlock wished for everything to just _happen_—

_Hold on a second_, Merlin thought. Shouldn't he have already felt the unbearable pain on his small, fragile body by now?

It wasn't long before Merlin noticed that the blaring noise of the train horn had subsided, and that it was deathly silent all around him. He still refused to open his eyes for fear that if he opened them, he would find himself in a dark oblivion where, Will had once told him, the newly deceased waited aimlessly until judgment.

There was a sharp exhale from above him, and Merlin stiffened as he heard a hoarse mutter.

"_Stupid_."

At the sound of the new, distinct voice, Merlin's heart faltered. He slowly opened his eyes, finding himself face to face with the blonde-haired boy from before, his hands flat on either side of Merlin as they firmly pinned the young warlock's wrists against the gravel. At that moment, the older one's countenance seemed so angelic, his eyes sparkling cerulean like a vast ocean and his hair resembling strands of gold under the scintillating sunlight. Their faces were mere inches apart; close enough for Merlin to reach out and touch his hair, and, for an instant, Merlin couldn't breathe.

It was only when the blonde let out an exhausted sigh that Merlin finally brought himself back to reality.

"Stupid."The older boy slowly shook his head then looked straight into the other's eyes.

Merlin let out a small exhale.

The blonde's gaze softened with slight concern as he opened his mouth to speak in a calmer, more careful tone. "Are you alright?"

Merlin swallowed hard and with some effort brought himself to nod once. The other boy moved back a little to allow him enough space to get up.

When Merlin rose to his feet, he was surprised to see so many people watching them from the platform, when what seemed to be only a few minutes ago the area had been so empty. He spotted Gaius in the crowd and half of him instinctively shrank back, ashamed of the trouble and worry he had definitely added to the weight on his poor caretaker's feeble heart.

Before he could think anything more, he felt himself being pulled forward. He turned to see that the boy was guiding him towards the edge of the platform. The two of them climbed out with the help of a few other adults. The very instant Merlin's heels touched solid ground, the boy yanked him out of the crowd, neither child paying any attention to the surrounding spectators who murmured behind their backs and quietly scolded them for endangering their lives.

When they had finally reached a calm spot, Merlin heard the blonde boy heave a long-suffering sigh. Then he turned to look into Merlin's eyes again, this time—the young warlock noticed—with a different, unreadable expression. It almost looked..._longing. _He was once again broken out of his reverie when the other boy began speaking to him in a soft, genuine tone.

"Don't even _think_ about doing anything like that again," he whispered, his gaze steadfastly fixed on Merlin. "Believe me, there's still so much to live for."

For a moment, Merlin remained silent, contemplating his words with much consideration. He glanced briefly at the blonde but then shyly lowered his eyes, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. He was about to open his mouth to finally reply to him, but another voice, appalled and caustic, interrupted from afar.

"_Arthur?_"

Merlin whipped his head around to see the rest of the wealthy family gathered a few feet away from them. The woman and the girl, who he could only assume were the boy's mother and sister, smiled and waved at him, but the father, standing at the front of the group, stared at the two boys with an appalled expression that made Merlin uncomfortable. Merlin turned again to see the frown on Arthur's face as he slowly glanced down to find that they were still holding hands. He quickly let go of Merlin, taking a step away from him.

"Ahem," Arthur coughed, looking down with a sheepish expression as he walked back to his family. Arthur didn't glance back at Merlin once, but he could still see that Arthur's countenance grew more grim with every step he took. Merlin could almost could almost _feel_ the burning rage in the father's eyes.

The family disappeared around the corner, and he was left alone once more. It was as if he didn't know how to think or feel anymore.

"Merlin?"

He held his breath and turned around to see his old caretaker standing right beside him. Then Merlin was back in the warmth of the other's arms, resting his head on Gaius's shoulder.

Gaius shook his head and sighed. "What in heaven's name were you doing down there, boy? I tell you to stay put for one second, and you go off trying to get yourself killed—"

Before the elderly man could continue any further, he was stopped by Merlin's soft sobs. Gaius sighed again and held him close, placing a reassuring hand on his back. "There, there. You're safe now. That's all that matters."

Merlin would have stopped to smile at him in response, but the tears just kept coming. The blonde's words echoed endlessly in his ears, as they would for days and days to come.

"_There's still so much to live for."_


	2. Chapter 1

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::.*~_Chapter One_~*.::.**  
**

The date was now April 7, 2001. The night was young and a full, magnificent moon shone gracefully in the dark heavens above. For one young warlock, Camelot's sky had truly become a remarkable sight to behold.

Merlin liked looking up at the stars. They were dazzling little marvels scattered along the vast nocturnal curtain, and all the time he wondered how many their universe could possibly hold. That night, he became certain that he'd find that answer for himself one day, if fate ever decided to put him in the right time and place.

"Merlin?" A distant voice called from behind him.

The boy, now the age of 12, took one last look at the beautiful panorama above before scampering back towards the front porch where he could smell his favourite food waiting for him on the kitchen table.

Merlin had grown up in a small house that Gaius had rented on the outskirts of Camelot where it was calm and less crowded compared to the more metropolitan regions. It was there that he had continued to learn to make a living for himself under the retired physician's care and that his "gifts" were not something to be ashamed of as if they were a sort of curse, but something to be grateful for if used properly. However, with the fear that society would one day point him out as the boy who once devastated a significant part of Ealdor, Gaius had told him to keep his special talents hidden unless they became necessary.

And Merlin had agreed to do so, although when indoors, Gaius would often lend him books handed down from previous sorcerer colleagues he'd befriended back in his days as a travelling intern. Merlin would study them well, making sure that he took every opportunity offered to him in life just as a certain someone had told him a long time ago. He never did forget the blonde who had saved him at Grand Albion Station, and sometimes he'd even wonder what the boy was doing in his own home while Merlin was busy gazing up at the stars or playing with the marbles Gaius had given to him for his birthday.

Almost in the blink of an eye, weeks from months to years had passed, and eventually, when Merlin was 21, he moved into his own flat and got a part-time job nearby as a waiter at the Twin Dragons Cafe.

~o~

_Click._

"Ginger princess, 5'7", 2:15 p.m."

Merlin looked up from the front counter to see his friend Gwaine watching with interest as another female customer walked out the front door after checking her pocketbook to see if everything was in order.

At the same time, Gwen, who had been cleaning one of the tables at the other side of the room, heaved out a long, suffering sigh and turned around to roll her eyes at Gwaine.

"Gwaine, really—when are you going to give this a rest?"

Gwaine only smirked in response, stuffing the tape recorder back in his pocket. He leaned back against his chair with his elbows behind his head and his heels planted firmly on the table.

Merlin slowly shook his head and came out from behind the counter with a wet rag in his hand. "Oi, feet off the table," he laughed, grinning at Gwaine. Gwaine snorted smugly, crossing his legs and throwing his hair back condescendingly as if he were royalty. Merlin made a playful expression and threw the sodden cloth in the other's face.

Gwaine made a sound of mock disgust before peeling the rag off with his hand. He dumped it on the table as he got up from his seat then pulled his brown leather jacket over broad shoulders.

"See you tomorrow, mate," he chuckled, making his way out the front door.

Merlin rolled his eyes jokingly, picking the rag up and wiping the table top until it was spotless.

"What am I going to do with him?" Gwen muttered, walking past Merlin to place empty dishes on the front counter.

Merlin smirked to himself then turned to put the rag back on the bin sitting beside her. Gwen glanced at him with the corners of her mouth turned up. "What are you smiling about?"

Merlin only laughed, dropping the bin behind the counter before turning to look at her with a bright expression on his face. "Would it be alright if I decided to leave early today?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "What's the occasion?"

Merlin walked over to hang his apron on the wall before proceeding to the front door. "Going to check on Gaius and pay him a little visit," he replied, still facing her as he started to walk backwards with a clever grin. But right when he turned around, he found himself almost tripping over his own feet and stumbling over the threshold with flushed cheeks.

Gwen couldn't help but laugh as he made his way onto the sidewalk. "Don't kill yourself on the way there!"

~o~

It was about 2:20 one fine Sunday afternoon. The streets were full of people, and a different Merlin walked tall among the crowd—a mature young adult who was now responsible for his own actions but at heart still very much the curious, happy-go-lucky child that he once was. Perhaps even more now that he followed a new, meaningful dream to enjoy life's simple, everyday pleasures.

For example, he liked to smell the freshly baked croissants coming from the pastry shop he always passed on the way back from his shift. He liked looking up at the sky to see the majestic clouds as they breezed along the sapphire radiance above. He liked waving to the little children on the street and watching them play their own little game of hopscotch on the sidewalk. But most of all, even now as he crossed the bridge leading to his childhood home, he enjoyed skipping stones down the long and winding stream, just to pass the time.

Merlin passed through the gate leading up to the main pathway and walked up the front steps. When he opened the door, he looked around for his old caretaker, only to find him sitting at the kitchen table focused on re-painting a garden gnome.

For an instant, Merlin's eyes were fixed on the vibrant colours of the small figure—the reds and the blues—and the smooth texture of its surface.

"Come in, boy," Gaius called, breaking him out of his reverie. "You're letting out all the air conditioning."

Merlin scratched the back of his head and laughed, closing the door behind him before approaching the elderly man with a wide grin on his face. "What's that?" he asked, sitting down beside Gaius, who dipped the tip of his brush into another splotch of paint.

Gaius cleared his throat then went on to finish retouching the gnome's ceramic blue shirt. "It's my old friend from before I married my beloved." He put the brush down and turned to look at him while lowering his glasses to the rim of his nose. "They never did get along, the two of them, once Alice came into my life."

Merlin frowned and watched as Gaius slowly rose from his seat. "And now they shall be reconciled," Gaius sighed, holding the gnome firmly in his hands. "Come."

~o~

Merlin followed Gaius into the back lawn until they reached a pile of knick-knacks stacked carefully around a tall, lush tree. He watched Gaius carefully place the gnome down in the middle as he gave a long sigh of content.

"There we are," Gaius said with a smile and glanced back at Merlin.

Merlin laughed, slowly shaking his head at him. "Have you taken your medicine?"

This time, Gaius was the one who laughed. "Of course I have, Merlin. Don't forget—you're asking the same person who's been taking care of your asthma all these years." He cleared his throat, taking a few steps forward to approach the boy with a more serious expression on his face. "Inhaler ready?" Gaius asked, raising an eyebrow as he gestured to Merlin's pocket.

Merlin promptly dug his hand into his right pocket and pulled out the medication, waving it in front of Gaius's face.

Gaius grinned at him and nodded approvingly. "Good." He placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder then returned to the house through the back door.

Just after he'd turned around, Merlin had quickly stuffed the inhaler back in his pocket and followed after him with a sheepish expression on his face.

In truth, Merlin never really did have any problems with his health. When he was a toddler and caught his first cold, his parents had taken him straight to the doctor. After being overwhelmed by the pediatrician's unbelievably strong perfume, he'd been forced to cough so violently that the woman had diagnosed him with an asthma condition. Unfortunately, in the years that followed, Hunith and Balinor never noticed the mistake, even when their precious son would often leave his medication behind in his sock drawer on purpose. No one had ever really checked again to see if his condition was legitimate or not, so he'd been left with no choice but to continue to go along with what his only doctor had told him to do. After a few months taking care of the little boy, Gaius had frankly had some vague thoughts about a possible misconception, but just in case, he still had him bring the inhaler around anyway.

Merlin sat back down at the kitchen table and sighed while Gaius left to put the tea kettle on the stove. He looked around to see the same old pictures hanging up about the room.

Of Gaius and Alice in one part of the room; of himself and Gaius in another.

When his eyes finally rested on the genuine form of his old caretaker, he couldn't help but soften his gaze at the sombre expression on Gaius's face as he found him staring forlornly out the window nearby.

"You should go out there sometime," Merlin uttered quietly. He frowned and got up from his seat, calmly approaching the elderly man. "Finally get some fresh air; go some place different."

Gaius only closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "If only I could," he murmured in a solemn voice. He opened his eyes, staring down at his hands with sad eyes. "We dreamed of leaving the country one day, Alice and I."

Merlin frowned with sympathy then gazed past the windowpane to see beautiful sunflowers flourishing along the borders of the front gate. "Gaius..."

Gaius chuckled softly, moving towards the cabinet to grab two empty teacups from the top shelf. "Besides, I'd be leaving you alone then," he sighed, carefully taking the kettle off the stove and placing it on the kitchen counter. "Who'd be there to take care of you if you got sick?"

Merlin lowered his eyes and grew pensive.

~o~

That night when Merlin finally returned to his apartment, he was greeted by Aithusa, his adorable white kitten with dark gray eyes, tinted like Camelot's sky on a cloudy day. Smiling at her fondly, Merlin scooped up the kitten in his arms and took her back to his mini-kitchen to feed her. He put the kitten down on the counter then stared through the window to catch a glance of his enigmatic neighbour who lived in the building across from his. When he'd first moved into his flat, he'd heard plenty of rumours about the man living there—that he'd been born with bones so brittle that he'd been confined in that room for years, never to see the wonders of life outside his apartment; hence he was known to all the neighbours as 'The Glass Man'.

For a moment, Merlin stared at the mysterious figure through the window, watching his silhouette seated stationary behind the curtains and wondering what a man like him would possibly be doing in that room all the time.

After a while, Merlin frowned and grabbed the milk from the fridge to fill Aithusa's bowl with a considerable amount. He then left the room to go take a nice hot shower.

~o~

If there was one thing Merlin liked about taking a bath, it was the calm, soothing feeling of the warm water trailing down his skin. He let out a sigh of content as he turned off the water then grabbed the towel he left hanging outside the curtain and wrapped it around his waist. He stepped out into his bedroom, rummaging through his toiletries, and couldn't help but laugh at Aithusa. She was lounging on the couch, watching _Kitchen Nightmares_ on the telly.

Before he could even squirt the toothpaste onto his toothbrush, the screen suddenly switched from Gordon Ramsay to a frantic news reporter from the BBC giving live coverage from a grand mansion situated up in the higher, wealthier parts of Camelot.

Merlin froze as he read the breaking news headline at the bottom of the screen:

**Former Wife of Uther Pendragon, President of Pendragon Inc., Killed in Car Crash**

It was as if time stood still as Merlin recalled the day his own parents died in a whole other accident of their own and how he himself had been traumatised as a boy.

It hadn't just been_ their_ car at the time though, but many others flying through the air as well...

The storm devastating houses in its path...

Trees being yanked out by their roots...

Screams being drowned by the merciless, howling wind...

Eventually, Merlin had to force himself back to the present and took a deep breath, leaning with one hand against the bathroom doorway. He was about to continue brushing his teeth when a picture of the woman was shown on the screen, and for some reason, Merlin couldn't help but stare because she seemed _so_ familiar.

Then, he suddenly recalled the blurred memory of a blonde woman who very much looked like the one shown on the television set. She was standing next to a small brunette, waving to him from the other side of a train station.

Merlin became so entranced by the image on the telly, not even noticing that he'd dropped the cap of his toothpaste on the floor. He shook his head, realising what had just happened.

_Her name doesn't really ring a bell though, _he thought contemplatively, crouching down to search for the missing cap. After some effort, he finally found the cap, which had rolled over to the wall, and reached over to pick it up. However, he stopped short when he noticed that one of the tiles at the bottom of the wall was slightly protruding, enough for him to see that it was loose and just barely concealed a mysterious hollow space.

Because Merlin's curiosity was so persistent, he instantly began working to remove the tile and was surprised to find a secret compartment. He swallowed hard then reached his hand into the cleverly concealed aperture, only to find a small rusty lunchbox. Carefully he pulled it out and opened it, discovering old toys and scraps of paper, most of which were trading cards and—

_Hold on a second._

Merlin inspected one of the ripped and wrinkled fragments he was holding. It had handwriting on it, but it was in some sort of foreign language he couldn't understand. He picked up the slip of paper in his hands and held it up to the light, trying to make out the strange characters scribbled on the parchment. Somehow, they seemed slightly familiar to Merlin, but not enough for him to be able to read it. He put it down instead to examine the lunchbox for any signs of a _name _at the very least.

When he finally looked at the bottom of the tin container, he saw all but two words inscribed on the rusty metal in faded letters:

_Ed Muir._


	3. Chapter 2

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::.*~_Chapter Two_~*.::.

The next morning, there was only one thing Merlin's mind was set on.

He would not only go out to search for the owner of the lunchbox and return it to him but, depending on his reaction (that is, if the owner were touched by his kind gesture), Merlin would promise to devote himself to many more acts of generous deeds for several other people he'd come across in Camelot. It would be another way for the young warlock to make the most of his life through all the small but beautiful things and discover the true meaning of his existence.

What might seem insignificant to one person might be vitally important to another; Merlin knew that from the numerous idiosyncrasies he'd developed throughout his life. This time, however, Merlin would see the idea from a different perspective when he searched for the mysterious Ed Muir.

~o~

Merlin rattled the doorknob to ensure it was locked then continued to walk downstairs into the foyer until he made his way out into the morning light. As he closed the door behind him and fumbled to put the lunchbox in his satchel, he was greeted by the fresh air and ambient sound of the talking townsfolk that were gathered around the produce stand nearby.

At that moment, Merlin knew where to start his quest. He slung his satchel over his shoulder and stepped down onto the sidewalk to stand among the crowd of customers.

Settled behind boxes of assorted fruits and vegetables was a tall man with dark, semi-curly brown hair and strong arms that could lift about four crates of apples at once. His name was Lancelot du Lac, and he had been friends with the young warlock since the day Merlin had first moved into the area. For almost three years, Lancelot lived on the floor just below him and worked full time selling produce to the local customers that passed.

Perhaps the man would have some knowledge of the person who'd once occupied the flat above his. Merlin lowered his eyes and timidly bit his lower lip while he approached the produce stand.

As he got closer to the edge of the crowd, Lancelot greeted him with a kind expression and delicately placed a head of cauliflower in its respective box as if it were a sleeping infant being lowered into its crib. "Merlin," he spoke in a fond voice. "What can I do for you today?"

Merlin gave a slight grin. "Hey, Lance," he chuckled softly then pursed his lips and reached into his jacket to search for something. "Nothing much, really. I just—um…"

Lancelot paused to wipe his hands on his grocer's apron then glanced up to meet the other's gaze with curious eyes as Merlin pulled out a small scrap of yellow paper from his right pocket. Merlin cleared his throat and swallowed as he tentatively handed him the slip of parchment.

"I just wanted to know if…if you knew anything about this man. Apparently he was the previous owner of my flat?"

Lancelot took the note from him then looked down to read the name that was scribbled along the front in black ink. For an instant, Lance's expression grew pensive as he thought long and hard about the numerous people who'd moved in and out of the neighbourhood during his stay here in Camelot. But then he returned the scrap to Merlin with a frown and shrugged.

"Sorry, mate," Lancelot replied, slowly shaking his head. "I'm afraid I don't recall anyone having such a name."

Merlin sighed, stuffing the note back in his pocket. "Oh."

Lancelot winced, looking at him with a sheepish expression. "He's probably someone who settled in long before I did. I'm sorry I'm not of much help to you right now."

At this, Merlin smiled and laughed. "That's all right. I can thank you for at least trying."

Lancelot chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at the apartment building. "Maybe it would be better to look him up in the phone books? Yellow Pages should be a good place to—"

"Oi! What's with all this chit-chat I'm hearing, eh?"

The two turned to see a stout, broad-shouldered man, with no hair on his head except for the grey-white beard covering his chin, emerge from behind the back curtain and glare at them with icy blue eyes that were narrowed especially at Lance.

"_Boy_!" the elder man roared, walking over to wave his arms furiously at Lancelot. "I'm not paying you to talk nonsense with my customers! We've got a new shipment that needs unloading right now! Hop to it!"

Lancelot took a deep breath and sadly nodded once to Merlin before leaving his post. "Yes, Mr. Collignon."

Merlin frowned at him with empathy then shifted his gaze to stare disdainfully at the proprietor of the stand, Hengist Collignon, as he continued to mock his friend in front of the local townsfolk.

"It's no wonder he's so slow at his job! He holds the endives as if they were precious, because he likes a 'job well done!'" Mr. Collignon jeered, looking at the crowd as if he were trying to get their attention as a ringmaster in a battle arena, and Lancelot was the centre of attention like he was about to be released to a pack of starving lions. Then, the elder man proceeded to point fingers at him and chortled. "Why, look at him! It's as if he's picking up birds that have fallen from the nest! You're lucky you don't want grapes! Otherwise he'd give them to you next Monday!"

"It's only right that the produce you sell be handled with care," Lancelot replied in a firm voice as he returned to the front carrying two crates of carrots in his hands. But his words fell on deaf ears as Hengist grabbed one of the boxes and proceeded to take over the cash register.

Lance let out a long, suffering sigh, then put the other package down and pulled the curtain back, only to see only to see countless crates toppled over, fruits and vegetables scattered all over the place. Merlin caught a quick glance of the clutter from afar and glared at Mr. Collignon, who was busy counting up the cash he collected from an old woman who he didn't even bother giving any change to.

It was a while before the greedy manager finally looked up at the young warlock and huffed. "What'll it be, boy? Make it quick, 'cause I've got a great deal of people waiting here in line."

But Merlin only frowned at him and met his gaze with a look of passive aggression. "Nothing," he replied curtly, turning to leave with his satchel tucked firmly under his left arm.

~o~

Merlin took Lance's advice into consideration and spent the morning visiting every Ed Muir he could find in the Camelot phonebook. Unfortunately, his attempts to find the right one were fruitless.

Who knew that there could be so many Ed Muir's in just _one _town?

By noon, Merlin was ready to give up and turned down the next block to leave for home when suddenly he was knocked over by a man wearing a dull gray hoodie, and his satchel slid across the pavement.

"Watch where you're going," the latter muttered briskly, dumping the bag onto Merlin's lap before Merlin could even sit up and tell _him_ off for not keeping his eyes on where he was stepping.

"I could say the same to you, you massive—wait!" Merlin shouted in retort as he saw a strangely _familiar_ mess of blond hair from the corner of his eye.

But the moment Merlin turned around, he was gone.

~o~

Later on that evening, Merlin lay restless and exhausted on his couch and stared up at the ceiling as incessant thoughts about Ed Muir—but more so, about the enigmatic blonde—circled endlessly in his mind.

He knew that once upon a time, they might have met somewhere as boys in a place that he could only remember from deep within his childhood: a place where he'd seen high walls, a marvellous sapphire sky through vast glass, and a beautiful face that closely resembled that of a fallen angel.

It was only then that the young warlock inhaled sharply, swallowing hard as he flipped over on his side, causing Aithusa to meow in protest from beside him and shift over to curl up at his feet.

_It couldn't be, _Merlin thought, scrunching his eyes closed and trying as much as he could to finally get some rest. The next morning he would again try to search for the mysterious owner of the old lunchbox. He would need a lot of energy to talk to as many people as he'd been forced to converse with earlier that afternoon, being the shy, socially awkward introvert that he was.

However, this wouldn't be the last time that the blonde would come up in his thoughts—or better yet, in his _dreams._

That night, Merlin fell asleep to a strange fantasy where he was telling the blonde off outside a grand castle. He was dressed in black trousers and a blue tunic with a brown jacket that barely reached down to his waist and a crimson scarf that was wrapped snugly around his neck.

The blonde, on the other hand, was clad in a knight's training outfit—chain-mail fitted over a faded red-orange tunic, and he had been tormenting a lowly servant holding a wooden target with arrows pierced firmly all over the front.

Presently though, Merlin found himself stepping on the heavy wood and helping the poor man up on his feet while—if Merlin really got down to it—telling the blonde-haired pillock to kindly _piss the fuck off._

"_You've had your fun, my friend," _Merlin chuckled, staring at him from afar.

The other man put his crossbow down and approached the young warlock.

Now, Merlin couldn't clearly see his face at that moment, but he could tell that the blonde was both puzzled and completely aggravated to the point of no return.

"_Do I know you?" _the blonde asked, stopping just inches from where Merlin was standing.

"_Uh, I'm Merlin," _Merlin found himself responding, extending a hand out for the latter to shake.

"_So I don't know you," _he replied instead with a scoff. "_Yet you called me friend."_

Merlin gave a smug grin and lowered his hand to his side. _"That was my mistake," _he sighed._ "I've never had a friend who could be such an ass."_

"_Nor I one who could be so stupid," _the blonde drawled. _"Tell me, Merlin. Do you know how to walk on your knees?"_

"_No."_

"_Would you like me to help you, then?"_

Merlin chuckled. _"Oh, I wouldn't if I were you."_

The blonde man laughed. _"Why? What are you going to do to me?'_

"_You have no idea," _Merlin uttered with a mischievous air about his tone.

"_Be my guest," _the other insisted mockingly, looking around to see everyone in the area was watching._ "Come on. Come on…COME ON."_

Completely out of instinct, Merlin raised a right hook intended for the blonde's cheek but only found his arm being twisted back against his spine.

"_You'll be in jail for that," _the blonde murmured into his ear, making Merlin almost shudder as his warm breath ghosted over the nape of his neck.

"_Who do you think you are, the king?" _the young warlock shot back, struggling under the blonde man's grasp.

The latter huffed, his hand steadfast on Merlin's wrist.

"_No. I'm his son—__"_

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Aithusa leaped off the couch with a startled yowl, hissing at the source of the dreadful sound. Merlin let out a half-hearted groan and blearily opened his eyes before whipping his hand up to put the evil alarm clock into snooze mode.

_It was just a dream, Merlin. Just a dream._

~o~

"Edwin Muirden," a booming voice spoke that morning from afar as Merlin made his way down the stairs into the lobby.

At that moment, Merlin stiffened and turned to see none other than The Glass Man looking at him from his door a few feet away.

"Um…" Merlin uttered, approaching the elderly figure with a confused face. "I'm sorry, _what?_"

The Glass Man sighed and closed his eyes, then slowly shook his head. "Ed_win _Muir_den_," he enunciated to the young warlock. "_That_ is the name of the gentleman who you should be looking for. Not _Ed Muir._"

Merlin only stared at him, still looking helpless and perplexed like a deer in headlights. "…Really? How do you know?"

But The Glass Man's only response was a proud smile and a small gesture welcoming Merlin to follow back into his flat.

"Come inside, young one," the elder called over his shoulder.

At first, Merlin hesitated, confused as to why the least sociable person in his neighbourhood would choose to finally approach him now, of all times. But seeing as he was at a loss in how to continue his quest to find Ed Muir—or _Edwin Muirden_ for that matter—he dashed into The Glass Man's room without another thought.

~o~

"My name is Kil Gharrah, if you care to remember," The Glass Man began hoarsely. "But most people are familiar with me as The Glass Man."

Merlin looked around the room to see numerous paintings hanging about the walls. "And mine is Merlin Emrys, if you even care as well," he replied. "Did you paint all of these?" he asked, amazed as he walked alongside The Glass Man.

The Glass Man laughed heartily at him. "It's amazing what I can do with such brittle bones now, isn't it? One day, I wish that they could somehow develop a way for me for me to break out of here—explore the whole country in a way I could never do before. _Biomedical_ engineering, they call the field, or so I've heard on rare occasions." He sighed, shifting his gaze to glance at the window at the other side of the room. "But times are hard these days for dreamers."

Merlin looked at him with a solemn expression on his face, but the other only grinned toothily and took him to see some of his recent masterpieces.

"It's not really so bad though—being cooped up here in this room, isolated from the rest of the world," The Glass Man spoke. "If I can't see anything that's going on out there, well, then this is when I decide to imagine a setting sensible enough for myself."

Merlin observed the paintings with bright eyes and marvelled at how intricate they all appeared. "They're beautiful," he remarked, noticing how increasingly vibrant the colours grew as the paintings became more and more recent.

Kil Gharrah chuckled softly at him until they finally came to a stop in front of a peculiar easel ensconced under a white sheet. "Here is the latest one that I'm working on."

At that moment, the young warlock watched eagerly as The Glass Man uncovered the delicate canvas and revealed a stunningly depicted scene of the crowded street outside.

"After countless years of experience, I know how to draw almost everyone now, from the details of their faces to the colour of the perfect landscape."

Merlin stood in awe and quickly moved forward to get a closer look at the wonderful painting. The Glass Man looked at him with a warm expression then went on to examine the image, looking around until his eyes rested on a particular spot.

"Almost…that is—with the exception of _one_," the elder finished shrewdly, placing a finger on a specific area on the canvas. Then he turned and walked to his study at the opposite side of the room.

At that moment, Merlin narrowed his eyes curiously at where The Glass Man had briefly pointed.

Kil Gharrah paused to pick up his mug on a table beside an enormous bookshelf and glanced over his shoulder to look at Merlin. "See the boy holding the glass of water?" he began, taking a sip of his tea. "He's standing in the middle of the crowd, yet based on his expression he seems...outside. After five years, I never could quite figure him out."

Merlin shifted his gaze until he found the boy in question, then thought for an instant. "Maybe he's just different from the others," he replied after a few seconds.

At first, the room was silent. The Glass Man pursed his lips and turned to walk back to stand beside him. "Different how?" Kil Gharrah asked, intrigued.

But Merlin lowered his eyes and shrugged. "I don't know."

The Glass Man stared contemplatively at the boy and took another sip from his mug. "As a child, maybe he didn't often play with other children. Maybe even never."

Merlin frowned but didn't respond.

After a while, The Glass Man cleared his throat and lifted his arm to offer Merlin a small scrap of white paper. "Here you are, boy. Edwin Muirden."

Merlin glanced down at the parchment then took it gingerly in his fingers.

The Glass Man nodded once, slowly pulling his own hand back. "Fortunately for you, he lives not far from this building if you take the local train," he began. "Although a young warlock such as yourself should be able to distinguish who is and who is not of his own brethren of magic."

Merlin whipped his head up to look at The Glass Man with a flustered expression. "Wait, I'm not—"

But Kil Gharrah only laughed and slowly shook his head. "You're a terrible liar, Merlin. That's what I admire about you." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers once, magically opening the door.

Merlin gaped at the effortless act, struck dumbfounded with astonishment. "How...how did you know?"

The Glass Man smirked proudly and sighed. "At least in here, I know _everything _there is to know. Now that this...'skeleton in the closet' has been taken care of, at this point, I can say that it is not much longer until you will finally discover where—or better yet, with _whom_ the purpose of your gifts is destined to lie. I know you have long been searching, boy."

Merlin smiled fondly at him then stepped out into the foyer. "Thank you."

~o~

As Merlin sat quietly on the train, he watched as he passed countless trees and houses nearby—before they turned into a distorted blend of various shades of blues and greens.

After a while, he let out a small sigh and continued the book he was presently reading on his lap.

"_Without you,_ _today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's," _he read aloud to himself.

He stopped for a moment, wondering what the message possibly meant. He took out a slip of paper from his pocket and scribbled the quote on it before promptly shoving it back into his jacket. Maybe Gaius would be able to help him in his next visit. Merlin murmured the quote again out loud to himself:

"Without you, today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's—"

"I beg your pardon?"

Suddenly, Merlin was brought out of his reverie upon seeing the perplexed expression of Leon, who had presently been collecting tickets from the other passengers.

The young warlock immediately shook his head. "Oh, nothing—just some poetry," he replied sheepishly, taking out his ticket from his pocket and handing it to him. "Here. Sorry about that."

~o~

At 10:30 a.m., twenty minutes after Merlin got off the train, he found Edwin Muirden in the marketplace nearby, walking past the greengrocer's shop.

Usually, on a morning such as this one, Mr. Muirden would purchase whatever was on his typically short list: bread, milk, and perhaps a bit of jam. But for some reason, today he hadn't been in the mood to buy anything in particular and merely kept walking on, not noticing the dark-haired boy standing on the other side of the street.

After asking a couple of people who lived in the same neighbourhood, it didn't take long for Merlin to finally spot the relatively short, blonde-haired man. He was wearing a worn-out, gray pea coat as he walked along the opposite sidewalk with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Merlin tried not to flail with excessive joy the minute he'd found Edwin Muirden. He had to think of a way to catch the latter's attention so that he could return his box to him—but without confronting him in person because even at that point, Merlin was just too shy around strangers.

Before long, Edwin stopped in his path when the payphone nearby started to ring. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering why such a thing would happen from out of the blue when not a soul was even waiting by the booth. Just like Merlin though, Edwin Muirden was a curious man and in the end, decided against his own judgment as he walked over to pick up the phone right when it was about to stop ringing.

"Hello?"

Strangely however, there was no one to reply on the other line. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, hanging up the phone. But when he turned around, he stiffened when he came across a familiar metal lunchbox sitting on the ground just behind his feet.

Edwin swallowed and inhaled sharply, glancing around to see no one in sight, and picked up the little lunchbox. As soon as he opened it, he stopped breathing for an instant, and his eyes started to water as the highlights of his whole childhood suddenly began to run through his mind.

The first windup toy his father had given him for a Christmas present.

The marbles he'd often win at the playground after school when he'd learned how to gamble with his classmates in a game of cards.

The final photo his family had taken before the fire that claimed his parents' lives had taken its ultimate toll.

Edwin's eyes softened as he turned the picture over to see the first spell he had written when he was still just a boy and discovered his 'gifts'. He exhaled sharply, lowering his gaze and closing the little box. Then he turned to leave the telephone booth with his treasured memento in hand.

From afar, Merlin saw him leave and began to walk in the opposite direction.

~o~

It was not by coincidence that Merlin and Edwin ended up sitting next to each other at a local pub nearby.

"One cognac, please," Edwin asked in a weary tone.

Merlin glanced up briefly to watch the bartender give the other a glass, and Edwin sighed, picking the drink up with a pensive look on his face.

Merlin only sat quietly in his seat and continued to sip on his ginger ale. The minute he put his glass down though, and the bartender went in the back to get more ice, Edwin finally decided to speak with him.

"It's weird, life," Edwin began. "When you're a kid, time creeps so slowly, but then one day, you're—" He took a deep breath, waving his hand once as if he were dismissing something. "And before you know it, you can only fit childhood, or whatever's left of it, into a little rusty box."

Merlin contemplated the latter's remark then nodded silently without looking up. Edwin, on the other hand, glanced over at him and took a sip of his cognac.

"You're quite a talented sorcerer for someone your age."

Merlin almost choked on his beverage and stared at Edwin wide-eyed, only to see that the man was sitting there with his box open, holding out an old windup toy that resembled a miniature form of a silver beetle. Then he watched for the slightest second as Edwin's eyes flashed gold, and suddenly the beetle jumped on the counter to crawl towards Merlin, blinking at him with green eyes.

In that instant, the younger boy took a deep breath and relaxed, looking at Edwin with a timid expression. "You knew it was me, didn't you? You knew from the very beginning."

Edwin's eyes softened on him as he shifted his gaze towards the beetle. "People like us, we have a gift."

Merlin pursed his lips then followed the other's gaze to watch the playful beetle. Edwin glanced at him then continued on in a kind voice. "Do you not think it should be used to make this a better world?"

Merlin looked up, only to see that Edwin's expression was warm and that he was smiling at him. In response, Merlin couldn't help but grin back with comfort.

~o~

Coming back on the train later on in the afternoon, Merlin had a strange feeling of absolute harmony. It was a perfect moment.

A soft light, a scent in the air, the quiet murmur of the city.

A surge of love, an urge to help mankind overcame him.

As soon as he disembarked at the train station, he made his first move when he saw a blind but beautiful girl begging for spare change. Her dress was faded red and in tatters. Grime stained her cheeks from countless nights of sleeping alone beside ticket booths and garbage cans. Without a second thought, he walked over, digging into his pocket for silver coins, and dumped them all into the poor girl's bucket.

When she heard the familiar jingle of change, she nodded once with a smile. "Thank you."

Merlin beamed back at her and bowed like a gentleman, only remembering in the last minute that she would not be able to see the chivalrous gesture.

The blind girl cleared her throat and turned to continue begging for more change from other people, when suddenly she found herself being pulled to her feet and led out of the train station.

Flustered, she tried to wriggle from Merlin's gentle grasp. "Wait, what—"

But Merlin only laughed and started to reassure her. "It's all right," he chuckled lightheartedly. "What's your name?"

Upon hearing the sound of the other's soothing voice, the girl's expression softened with a smile. "Freya."

Merlin grinned and leaned down to kiss her hand. "Freya? Now _that's_ a beautiful name."

Freya giggled and blushed slightly as Merlin led her down the steps and into the town square, taking her around every corner possible in that crowded space.

"Let me help you," he began enthusiastically. "Step down. Here we go! The maestro's widow! She's worn his coat since the day he died." He gasped. "Oh no, the horse's head has lost an ear! Hey, that's the florist laughing! He has crinkly eyes." He beamed, leading Freya around the nearest corner. "In the candy shop, lollipops. Smell that! They're giving out melon slices! Ice cream, vanilla bean! We're passing the park butcher. Ham, £5.20 per kilo. Spareribs, £3.50! Now the bakery. Honey and lavender cupcakes! Three for £2. A delicious bread pudding for £1.65! Look! A baby's watching a dog that's watching the chickens!"

He sighed, helping Freya up a familiar flight of stairs.

"Now we're at the kiosk by the metro. I'll leave you here. Bye!"

At that point, Merlin left Freya where he first found her, and Freya was left alone with an awed expression of delight on her face.

~o~

Merlin walked through the corridors of Grand Albion Station with a contented smile on his face. Who knew helping other people could be so much fun?

He chuckled to himself, wondering who would be his next lucky customer for the day, but immediately stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a man dressed in jeans and a dull gray hoodie fumbling under the photo booth as if he were searching for something very important.

Merlin _would_ have stopped to ask him if he needed any help, but at that very instant, the man finally crawled back from the photo booth to reveal that same, _strikingly familiar_ head of soft, sunshine blonde hair.


	4. Chapter 3

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::.*~_Chapter Three_~*.::.

All Merlin could do was stand there in complete shock and gape with his heart stuck in his throat.

The young man who rummaged about the photo machine was none other than Arthur Pendragon.

As a boy, Merlin had been denied the company of other children, but little Arthur, who'd been constantly smothered under the shadow of his father's fame and legacy, would have rather done without. Though they'd lived different lives so far apart from one another except for one unexpected, _unforgettable_ juncture in particular, both would dream of having a special brother with whom they'd play all the time.

Merlin gazed silently as Arthur shook his head in disappointment and sighed, wiping the dirt off his faded jeans.

It didn't take long, though, before the blonde started to get the idea that he was being watched. The very second that Arthur turned to glance back at the person standing a few feet away from him, Merlin instinctively closed his eyes and uttered a soundless spell under his breath that concealed himself within the invisible fabric that was the surrounding air.

"Can I help you—" Arthur began in a calm but slightly aggravated tone but was cut short when he looked over his shoulder and saw that no one was there. His expression grew perplexed as he checked around to make sure that he wasn't being Punk'd or spied on by sleazy cons lurking in the shadows, waiting to make a quick buck from him. At some point without even knowing, he managed to divert his gaze in Merlin's direction, so that the young warlock was staring right into the other's wary eyes.

And just like they had been on that tranquil spring dawn, Arthur's eyes were ocean blue, shimmering under the dim light. At that moment, Merlin inhaled sharply and swallowed hard, not knowing whether to run or reveal himself to the blonde. But before he could think any further, he found himself tripping on his feet as he took a step back and stumbled to the floor with a _thud_, all the magic that had kept him hidden dissipating in the blink of an eye.

Merlin let out a gasp and froze when he knew that Arthur could see him.

"Are you alright?" Arthur called, his voice full of startled concern.

Almost immediately, Merlin scrambled to his feet with wide eyes then turned to make a run for it.

"Wait!" the blonde cried from afar, but Merlin never stopped to turn around.

Not even once.

~o~

That evening, Merlin walked into his flat and laid himself down on his couch. He flopped over onto his side and buried his face into a pillow.

He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "He doesn't remember you, Merlin," he murmured quietly to himself. "If anything, it was probably even someone else, and it was just your imagination." He took a deep breath then peered over the burgundy cushion to catch Aithusa looking pointedly at him from below, waiting for her master to spoil her with another heavenly bowl of milk.

Merlin couldn't help but laugh at her and smile in spite of himself, reaching over to stroke the little kitten's ears.

~o~

The next morning, Merlin ended up spending his time off at The Glass Man's flat, under a personal invitation for hot tea and crumpets. The young warlock watched with interest as the elder man continued painting his latest work and they continued their discussion about the boy with the glass of water.

The Glass Man lifted his brush from the canvas then squinted at the boy with a pensive, incredulous expression on his face. "You mean to say…that he'd rather imagine himself relating to an absent person than build relationships with those around him?"

Merlin shrugged, taking a sip from his mug. "Maybe he tries hard to fix other people's messy lives."

Kil Gharrah frowned and turned to look at Merlin. "But what about him? His own messy life? Who'll fix that, young warlock?"

Merlin placed his beverage down on the table and pondered, lowering his eyes. "Well, it's better to help people than garden gnomes…" he trailed off, another grand idea starting to brew at the back of his mind. In that instant, he knew just which person to help next for the day.

Upon coming to this realisation, he thanked The Glass Man for his warm hospitality and hurried out the door.

~o~

Since it was still very early in the morning, Merlin had every right to assume that Gaius was still asleep. Carefully, Merlin tiptoed through the front gate and quietly made his way into the back yard to where Alice's shrine remained.

Then, without a moment's hesitation, he lifted Gaius's gnome into his arms and looked around to see if anyone was watching. Luckily, to his relief, not a soul was in sight, and so the young warlock continued on, leaving with the precious garden gnome in his possession.

~o~

It was only when Merlin was finally walking across the bridge that he stopped to put the gnome down on the ground beside him. Then he fumbled to grab his phone from his pocket and swiftly searched his contacts list before pressing the 'call' button and reaching down for a smooth enough stone to skip across the narrow stream below.

After three rings, there was a click on the other end, and Merlin was comforted to hear a particular voice that he hadn't heard for a very long time.

_"What an honour to hear from you, Gandalf the Grey. How can I help you on this fine morning, huh?"_

Merlin laughed then let out a fond sigh. "Will," He chuckled, tossing another stone into the river before looking up at the clouds in the sky. "What time does your flight leave today?"

There was a brief silence on the other end. "Er—12:00 sharp. Why?"

Merlin smiled and glanced down at the garden gnome beside his feet. "Can I ask you to do me a small favour before you go out to explore every nook and cranny this world has ever known on your extremely epic and expensive expedition?"

Will sputtered with mock offence. "Oi! You've known since we were kids still living next to each other over in Ealdor that I've always wanted to do this in the first place! Besides, all my life I've been saving up for this trip—wait a second." He paused and sighed wearily. "Merlin...what foolish plot has Satan decided to sow into that pitiful brain of yours now?"

Merlin bit his bottom lip and smirked mischievously. "Meet me at Grand Albion Station about an hour before you leave for the airport."

_Click._

~o~

Merlin watched with amusement as his childhood best friend struggled to work the garden gnome into his suitcase. After a while, Will finally gave up and was left with no other choice but to leave with the gnome wedged under one arm. At first he'd glanced back at Merlin with an awkward expression, but Merlin merely responded with a shrug.

Will winced with uncertainty before stepping on the train, only to have everyone stare at him like he'd grown multiple heads. Then he turned to look at Merlin with an annoyed, _you'll-pay-for-this-one-day-you-son-of-a-bitch _expression on his fuming face.

Merlin snickered, waving with a stupidly large smile on his face. "So long, Will! See you when you get back! Don't forget to take plenty of pictures!"

Will was just about to scream his head off in protest when the doors suddenly closed on him, and Merlin waved to him even more vigorously as if he wanted his hand to fall off.

Will settled for rolling his eyes and gave his best friend the finger with a smug grin before turning around to fiddle with his briefcase.

Merlin laughed. "Oh, I'll miss you too."

When the train had finally disappeared into the dark tunnel, Merlin sighed, turning to make his way back home.

He stopped when he caught sight of the photo booth in the distance again, as well as the same blond-haired man who was rummaging under it.

When Arthur pulled his head back from the photo machine once more, Merlin's body went numb. He couldn't help but stare absent-mindedly at the other's complexion, flawless and fair like an angel's face, and his slightly tanned jawline smooth like the finest porcelain.

However, when it seemed like Arthur was going to raise his gaze to try and look at him for a second time, Merlin timidly lowered his eyes and started to have faint thoughts about running away again before the blonde could even notice.

He was startled when he'd heard a shout from Arthur's direction.

Merlin immediately whipped his head up to find the other looking at the opposite side of the corridor and glanced over Arthur's head just in time to catch the slightest glimpse of the silhouette of a running man. Before Merlin could even realise what was going on, Arthur was already chasing after the stranger, and without thinking, the young warlock found himself chasing as well.

"You there!" Arthur exclaimed as he sprinted past the station's gates. "Stop! Please!"

Merlin sucked in a gulp of air and ran as fast as he could, and because he was _unfortunately_ the worst runner in existence, he was forced to use his 'gifts' to keep up with the two. Then he watched as the next few events happened in a blur.

The running stranger immediately rushed into his car and drove off, while Arthur wasted no time and continued in hot pursuit, quickly getting on his motorbike and speeding off into the distance. At the same time, however, Arthur failed to notice how the red knapsack that had been hanging at the back of his motorbike fell off onto the brick path behind him.

But most importantly, he'd become unaware of the incoming black sedan that was coming his way just as he was about to cross the next block.

In a split second, Merlin stopped dead in his tracks at the edge of the sidewalk and closed his eyes, unintentionally releasing the bit of energy that was locked deep within the very core of his heart. Like vines curling around the bricks of an ancient castle wall, Merlin's magic threaded through his slender fingers until it branched out into the surrounding air and reached further and further in the direction of Arthur's shoulders—enclosing him in a warm, protective embrace then pushing him full force to safety before the car could even form a scratch on the dilapidated motorbike.

Simultaneously, things got a little strange, as the faintest memories from the unknown corners of Merlin's imagination flashed through the core of his subconscious, making the young warlock stiffen.

For one moment, Merlin was dressed in the ragged clothes of a servant again, while the other stood tall in the dazzling chain-mail of a gallant knight with a regal air about him.

For one moment, Merlin was in a dimly lit room full of gossamer cobwebs—pulling the same blonde away from the fatal blow of a flying dagger.

For one moment, Merlin was jumping in front of him to clash head-on with a screaming spirit that meant none but chilling ill-intent.

For one moment, Merlin's whole world revolved around another blonde with the fated name of Arthur Pendragon, and he would do everything he could to keep his heart beating because that was, and always had been, his destiny.

Just like that, when Merlin opened his eyes, Arthur and the stranger had disappeared from sight, and he was left to stand all alone just a short distance from the train station. Merlin took a deep breath and let out a sigh, covering his face with his hands for a moment. Then, when he was sure that he'd finally calmed down, he turned in a daze to walk over to where he'd seen Arthur drop his knapsack and tentatively picked it up by the strap.

Merlin walked over to the front steps of the train station and sat down, instantly overtaken by his ever-so-fervent curiosity to take the slightest peek inside the little knapsack. But as he pulled the strings back to loosen the bag's mouth, he was surprised to see nothing inside except for a very peculiar, very antiquated photo album. And plastered over its delicate, yellowing pages were failed identity photos that their owners had presumably ripped up and thrown away and that had been re-assembled and classified by some eccentric person with ample free time on his or her hands. The young warlock raised an eyebrow in astonishment as he continued turning the pages to see different people of all ages—young, old, small, big, white, black, Latino, Asian.

_Some family album this would have made! _Merlin thought incredulously to himself.

~o~

Later that afternoon, Merlin walked back to his flat and passed the usual crowd of customers gathered around the produce stand.

Somewhere along the line, he unexpectedly bumped into Gwen, who was startled for a moment before recognising her friend from the Twin Dragons Café.

"Oh! Hello, Merlin," She beamed, looking up into Merlin's wide, shining cerulean eyes. "Enjoy your day off?"

Merlin smiled back and nodded with a sheepish expression. "Yeah, I—oh!" he exclaimed as he was bumped into.

"Ooh, sorry about that, lad," spoke a spectacled, middle-aged man with shaggy red hair before crouching close to the ground to pick up a few potatoes that had spilled from his sack.

Merlin chuckled and reached down to hand one to him. "That's okay," he replied with a grin, then cleared his throat and turned to see Gwen's hand full of berries.

"Baking a pie tonight, Gwen?" Merlin asked, watching as she carefully dropped them into her little basket.

But Gwen didn't respond, and for some odd reason, the crowd of customers hushed. Merlin swallowed, his voice uneasy as he looked up to see her chocolate-brown eyes fixed somewhere else.

"Er…Gwen?"

When he followed the direction of her gaze, he saw that Gwen was staring at Lancelot, who was presently tending to the tomatoes on the other side of the stand—

All of a sudden, Hengist emerged from the back curtain and went on another rampage to pick on poor Lance in front of everyone.

"450 micrograms of alcohol per litre of breath in his blood for a chauffeur!" Merlin managed to hear halfway through before Mr. Collignon burst into a fit of raucous laughter. "I'm not the only one to employ such an irresponsible moron!"

Merlin frowned, glancing over to see that Gwen's fists were now clenched and that she was biting her bottom lip in pure distaste. Then he looked back at Lance and winced when he saw him put down the tomatoes he was holding with tired, bloodshot eyes and turned to disappear behind the tattered curtain.

Even after Lancelot left, Hengist's vituperative comments never ceased.

"No rush!" Mr. Collignon chortled, his eyes briefly shifting towards the back where Lance was standing. "Look at him. At work, there's no chance he'll exceed the speed limits, is there?" With an expectant, arrogant expression on his broad face, he looked around at the crowd, who was forced to laugh at his terrible joke.

Merlin and Gwen were the only ones who remained silent, not caring if anyone shot them awkward stares for not going along with everybody else. Merlin sadly lowered his eyes then glanced over at Gwen, who continued collecting more berries but with an even more sombre expression.

"If I were him, I'd say something for myself," Gwen muttered under her breath.

Merlin sighed, glaring at Hengist disappointedly. "I know, but if he did...wouldn't he be taking the risk of losing his job?"

Gwen took a deep breath and slowly shook her head. "I wouldn't even want to work for such a person in the first place." She paused for a moment. "Even if I enjoyed my job just as he does, I'd find some way to make sure this weren't so. I'd want to be happy all the time, for once." She heaved out another sigh before closing her eyes. "But that's just the world for you. Isn't it, Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes softened with understanding. Before he could say anything, Gwen turned and left to get in line and pay for her assorted berries, and Merlin immediately ran to the back of the stand to see Lance half-heartedly unloading more crates of produce.

The young warlock walked over to him and then dragged him by the arm until they were near the curtain, just enough that they could both see all the customers waiting patiently by the cash register.

Lance looked startled and confused by Merlin's actions. "Merlin, what—" he began to protest, but not before Merlin suddenly pointed to Gwen, who was impassively handing £2.20 to Mr. Collignon.

"Lance!" Merlin whispered in an excited tone. "Lance, open your eyes! She's hoping for you, and you're only looking at your fruits and vegetables!"

Lancelot followed the other's finger to see Guinevere, dressed in a light purple shawl that covered her shoulders. At first, he thought he'd caught her staring at him, but when he met her gaze, Gwen swiftly looked back down with a shy expression on her face.

Lance turned to Merlin with an incredulous look. "No...someone as beautiful as her? Even _bothering_ to pay attention to a nobody like me?"

Merlin's eyes widened in surprise. "You're blind!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. Then he put a hand on Lance's shoulder, and they both stared at Gwen as she left with her basket of berries in her hand and tentatively glanced over her shoulder once before walking off.

Merlin slowly shook his head. "Poor girl! All she wants to do is to try and attract your attention." He turned to see Lance watching her longingly as she left, then noticed him shift his gaze over to Hengist, who was still gibing about him to the other customers at the cash register.

Merlin bit his bottom lip. "You should really do something about him, you know? What he's doing isn't fair to you. He should be treating you with more respect."

Lance lowered his eyes and let out a weary sigh. "If only I could," he replied without looking at Merlin. Lancelot frowned and walked back, returning to his job of unloading produce.

Merlin could only watch helplessly.

~o~

The Glass Man frowned as he glimpsed another page of the photo album. "Look, there he is again," he uttered, knitting his eyebrows close together.

Merlin turned to look at another image of a young, pale-faced boy with dark, curly hair and icy blue irises—an image that recurred through the whole collection every now and then with a different background colour. "Yes—how strange," the young warlock replied, intrigued.

The Glass Man cleared his throat, pointing to the top right corner of the next page. "And here."

"Still him," Merlin replied, reading the bottom of the torn photo:

_Grand Albion Station_

Merlin took a deep breath and turned another page, only for Kil Gharrah to stop him once more.

"And here again—still with the same expression," The Glass Man remarked with interest. "Why is it always so neutral?"

Six pages later, they saw a couple more pictures of the mystery boy.

"Twelve times in total," Merlin spoke, glancing up at The Glass Man. "I counted. It's strange, isn't it? Why would he go across the whole town to take photographs, and then throw them away?"

The Glass Man made a small sound of agreement after he sipped his tea. "Especially when they're in perfect condition!"

Merlin frowned and looked back down at the photo in question then back at the one on the previous few pages. "Looks like some sort of ritual."

"Maybe he is possessed by a fear of reaching a very old age and is not wasting any time to preserve his younger form in his own peculiar manner," Kil Gharrah offered wisely.

"Or maybe…" Merlin trailed off, contemplating for a moment before looking at The Glass Man with realisation. "Wait! What if he's dead?"

Kil Gharrah met his eyes with perplexity. "Dead, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded enthusiastically. "He's afraid of being forgotten." He glanced down again at the photo, flipping to the next few pages. "Well, he doesn't have to worry about that with all of these! Even if he died a long time ago, he'll never be forgotten."

_But still...why would that blond-haired man from before be collecting these photographs in the first place? _the young warlock thought to himself. He paused then looked up at The Glass Man.

"You know, that boy with the glass—maybe he's thinking about someone," Merlin muttered quietly, as he remembered his encounter with the blonde earlier that day outside the train station.

The Glass Man frowned and shifted his gaze towards the painting. "Somebody in the picture?" he asked with curiosity.

"No."

Kil Gharrah slowly shook his head then turned to look at Merlin. "I don't know, young warlock. There you are again, trying to make the same point. Is it really more important to him to imagine a relationship with somebody who's away than to communicate with everyone who is already there?"

Merlin sighed and gave a slight shrug. "No, it's not like that at all...I just think he's doing everything he can to sort out the lives of the people connected to him at that point."

But when he looked at The Glass Man again, he was still shaking his head as he took both their empty plates and walked over to put them in the sink.

Merlin remained in his seat, holding back tears that he didn't even realise were already forming under his eyes.

~o~

That night, Merlin stormed into his flat, slamming the door behind him. He buried his face in his palms and leaned back against the solid wood to let out a big sob. He looked up with tear-stained cheeks and glared at his open window, where he could catch the moving silhouette of The Glass Man behind the curtain in the building opposite.

Merlin sniffled, walking over to his window and pulling it shut and closing the curtains before he leaned over the kitchen sink.

_"__Look at the Emrys boy over there sitting on the front porch by himself," _Merlin muttered acerbically to himself, mimicking the tactless voices of the passing neighbours in Ealdor who'd done nothing but stare at him like he was a freak during his childhood._ "He can't relate to other people. He was always a lonely child…"_

Merlin slammed his fist on the counter and sobbed again. But that was when he heard a soft meow from below and glanced down to see Aithusa looking up at him with concern. Merlin's eyes softened at the sight and he swallowed, taking a deep breath before crouching down to scratch his little kitten's ears fondly.

"If I choose to live in my own dream world and remain an introvert forever, then I have every right to mess up my life," Merlin chuckled and smiled at her.

Aithusa only gave a purr of content, nuzzling her head against her loving master's palm.


	5. Chapter 4

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::.*~_Chapter Four_~*.::.

That morning, Merlin woke up early to leave for the Twin Dragons Café.

On his way down the stairs though, he was forced to stop when he noticed that Hengist's keys were left hanging on the doorknob to his own flat.

For a moment, Merlin considered whether or not he should return them to him—because in a way, it sort of sounded like helping the Grim Reaper find his scythe—but this time, to his surprise, his Good Samaritan vibes overcame him instead of his curiosity. Tentatively, he removed the ring of keys, then hung it on his wrist and ran outside to look for Mr. Collignon.

About halfway down the front steps though, Merlin was appalled when he caught sight of the man rebuking Lancelot with a more contumelious air about him than he ever had before. Then when Merlin saw poor Lance, he couldn't help but heave a sigh, as he was left with no choice but to listen to each hurtful word with a disheartened expression. What made the young warlock even angrier though, was the disgustingly overbearing look on Hengist's face, and with that, he shifted his gaze to glare piercing daggers at the man.

In all honesty, Merlin had always hated Mr. Collignon—but for a completely different reason. Yes, he most definitely was upset to see one of his closest friends constantly being picked on by the terrible bastard, but Lance hadn't always been the _only _victim of Mr. Collignon's terrible ways.

And Mr. Collignon had not always lived in this part of Camelot.

It had been nine years since Merlin had encountered him for the very first time—not long after he and Gaius had moved into the outer parts of the town.

After all that time, Hengist Collignon still hadn't changed.

Not even one bit.

~o~

Merlin had still been just a boy. A few days after he and Gaius had just set foot in their new home, the young warlock had easily grown bored of sitting around indoors with no one to play with, so it wasn't a surprise when one morning, he had finally asked his old caretaker for something to do. Unfortunately, however, Gaius had never played outside of his own home when he himself was a child, so at first he had no idea what to say to Merlin. But after rummaging through his old things, Gaius found a camera he had once used to take pictures of himself and Alice when they were kids. He gave the camera to Merlin, telling him to go out in the back but to stay near the house and take as many photos as his little heart ever so desired.

And so Merlin did, taking pictures of various clouds in the sky—from one that looked like an adorable little bunny rabbit to another that looked like a great big dragon looming over the whole neighbourhood. But in the middle of his picture-taking, there had suddenly been a loud crash nearby, and Merlin immediately put his camera down to see that an unexpected black Jeep had crashed into a lamp post. Frozen with fear, he couldn't help but watch as the bald, red-faced driver got out of his seat in rage, screaming at the damage done to the front of his precious vehicle.

It was only by unfortunate chance that the cruel bastard saw young Merlin standing nearby and wasted absolutely no time in shoving all the blame on him, saying that it was the poor boy's fault because his stupid camera "did nothing but cause accidents."

Mortified and ashamed, Merlin had sprinted back inside, quickly shutting the door behind him. The rest of the morning, he never touched the camera again, especially not after he'd turned on the TV to see terrible events being mentioned on the news—

A plane crash that killed hundreds of innocent people.

A tsunami that wiped out an entire city.

A school bus full of small children that flipped over a frighteningly steep cliff.

Cringing as he remembered the damage he'd unintentionally caused to all of Ealdor not long ago, he'd sat there in distraught tears, thinking his photos were the prime cause of all those horrible catastrophes. Meanwhile, Hengist sat on his fat arse in his own house, chuckling mischievously as he watched television in his living room with a large bowl of popcorn in his flabby arms.

It hadn't taken long for Merlin to realise he'd been tricked once Gaius had come into the room to comfort him.

Around 7:00 p.m., when Hengist was busy watching MasterChef and laughing raucously as one of the chefs tripped upon rushing over to check on her simmering food, Merlin stood outside his house, glaring at him from the window as he hid just among the bushes. And right when Hengist had thought the episode was getting good, the young warlock smirked impishly and took that opportunity _very _much into consideration.

In a split second, Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and suddenly the television screen turned into a blur. All Hengist could hear was the deafening sound of static, and his eyes widened with horror. He got up from his couch, waddling over to his telly to try and figure out if a fuse had blown. No matter what Hengist did though, the static never ceased, and Merlin laughed his face red as he heard Hengist screaming with apprehension and a rage that equalled the passion of a thousand burning suns.

"No! This can't be happening! The season finale starts in ten minutes! _Ten _minutes, goddammit! I _need_ to know what happens! What the fuck's going on!? Who's fucking moved the aerial? Who? _WHO_!?"

~xxx~

Reminiscent of that _lovely_, if not unforgettable, memory, Merlin chuckled to himself as Hengist's raving fanboy cries of disdain still echoed in the corners of his mind. Then without any second thoughts, he stuffed the keys to Mr. Collignon's flat in his coat pocket and glanced down at his wristwatch.

_It's still early, _Merlin thought mischievously to himself. He smirked, tiptoeing back into the shadows of the building.

~o~

When Merlin waltzed into Twin Dragons Café later that morning, he wore nothing but an overly satisfied look on his face. In fact, his smile was so wide that even Gwaine noticed and stopped mid-sentence when he'd been spying on yet another female customer.

"1:30, dirty blonde ballerina—oi, what's with that smirk on your face now, mate?" Gwaine chuckled. "Finally have yourself some decent _fun_ last night?"

Flustered, Merlin almost tripped over his own feet and gaped at him. "God, no! What the hell are you even thinking?"

Gwaine gave a smug smile of his own, scratching his chin in mock contemplation. "Well…"

Merlin laughed, jokingly kicking the latter's chair. "You twat! I helped out a friend this morning, that's all." He shrugged. "Did something I should have done a long time ago."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow at him then pointedly looked him up and down. "Sure...of course you did, Merlin," he spoke dryly.

They both broke out into another fit of laughter with Gwaine clapping Merlin on the shoulder, but then Merlin turned to glance over at Gwen, who was cleaning the front counter with crestfallen eyes.

At that moment, Merlin's eyes softened, and Gwaine frowned, following the young warlock's gaze. "She's been like that all morning," Gwaine murmured quietly.

Merlin sighed and slowly shook his head.

Gwaine turned to stare curiously at him. "What's with her, now? You do something to hurt her?"

Merlin lowered his gaze, his expression sombre. "No." He took a deep breath then looked at Gwaine. "Look...can I ask you a favour?"

All of a sudden, Gwaine narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he already knew in advance what the young warlock was about to suggest. After all, it was always known to the closest of Merlin's friends (most of the time Will) knew that if Merlin asked for a "favour," it wouldn't be just _any _favour.

"Remember that time—" Merlin began, but Gwaine instantly cut him off.

"No, I will not walk up to her coming back as a prat dressed in a fairy outfit because that's _definitely _out of the question, mate," Gwaine replied, raising an eyebrow uneasily. "But if you want to do it instead and we're talking _Tinker-Bell-my-arse-is-almost-showing_ flamboyance, and you want to make poor Guinevere laugh _that_ much, then that's totally alright with me, though I can't promise I won't shut up about it the next day."

Merlin almost fell over the table and sputtered, elbowing Gwaine on the shoulder. "No!" he laughed, shaking his head at Gwaine, who only grinned in spite of himself.

"Alright, Merl, what's the deal?"

For a moment, Merlin fell silent. Then, he bit his bottom lip and leaned over to whisper in Gwaine's ear.

When Merlin had finished explaining his elaborate plan, he finally backed away, hesitantly looking at Gwaine.

"So—are we clear?" he asked, wincing as Gwaine scratched the back of his head, this time with genuine thought on his mind.

Gwaine pondered for a second, then eventually uttered a small sound of assent. "7:00 a.m. on the dot?" he asked.

Merlin cleared his throat and nodded once. "It's probably the only time he'll be able to do this."

Gwaine nodded back and continued to contemplate on the matter at hand. "And you're sure this..._friend _of yours will actually be able to come? I refuse to get up this early tomorrow for absolutely _nothing_, Merlin. You know how cranky I get when I don't get proper beauty sleep. Not good for the hair. Especially when I'd rather dream of succulent cheese that tastes of apple pie."

Merlin chuckled then sighed, lowering his eyes. "I've got a way to make sure that he does." He frowned, looking back at Gwen again, who still seemed as sad as a five-year-old who'd just been told that Christmas was cancelled. "For Gwen's sake, at the very least."

~o~

After he'd finished his shift, Merlin decided to pay Gaius a visit just to check on how he was doing without his porcelain little friend guarding the flowers out in the back yard.

But instead of coming in to see him sitting at the kitchen table, Merlin found him standing in front of Alice's shrine in the back yard, scratching his head in complete and utter confusion. He walked over to the elderly man, following his gaze as he stood beside him.

"Gaius? Is there something wrong?" the young warlock asked.

Gaius was brought out of his reverie and immediately shook his head. "No, no, nothing," he assured with conviction.

However, Merlin had known Gaius for far too long not to see right through his act. "Your garden gnome's gone," Merlin brought up, as if everything happened to be a surprise to him at that point. "Is he back in the shed?"

At this, Gaius let out an exasperated sigh and abruptly turned to begin walking back to the house. "Oh, follow me, my lad."

~o~

When they returned to the kitchen, Gaius walked over to the grandfather clock, beside of which was a picture of the two of them when Merlin was just a boy and then a whole wall of peculiar photographs all containing images that were similar to one another. As Merlin expected before he could even look at the collection closely, each and every one depicted Gaius's treasured possession standing someplace in a different country—from the Eiffel Tower to the Leaning Tower of Pisa to the Great Wall of China.

Just as Merlin reached over to pick one of the photos up, Gaius grabbed another one and exhaled sharply as he stared with slight frustration at the image of his garden gnome in front of the freakishly tall, narrow Ostankino Tower.

"Moscow and there," Gaius muttered to himself. "Nothing. No explanation."

Merlin frowned pensively, then took the picture from Gaius's hands, trying not to smile at one of Will's talented handiwork for Travelocity. "Maybe he wanted to travel abroad," he offered, returning the photo back to his old caretaker.

But Gaius only shook his head and put the picture back with the others. "I don't get it," he replied, looking at his collection. Then he turned to look perplexedly at Merlin. "I just don't get it."

~o~

Merlin left his childhood home chuckling to himself as he made his way over to the train station to check on his beautiful friend Freya. However, he was instantly caught off-guard when he saw a bright orange piece of paper taped onto the kiosk near to where the girl was usually sitting. Merlin found that for once, Freya actually wasn't there, and instead he found his hands reaching for the ad as he read the message typed up in big bold black letters:

**LOST: Grand Albion Station knapsack containing a PHOTO ALBUM. Please contact me.**

At first, Merlin _would_ have called the telephone number without hesitation, but before he could decide against his better judgment, he stopped himself from doing anything rash, crumpled up the ad in his right hand, and rushed off to go back home to his flat.

~o~

At around 8:00 p.m., fifteen minutes after Hengist decided to close up shop and leave him there to clean up everything, Lance was intrigued to find a note wedged between two of the apples at his stand:

_Personal delivery for Room 624? The Glass Man's request. A small box of apples and a few water bottles should be all right. It's okay: he's actually a great man. Don't be late, though. He gets a little cranky in the morning. There's your fair warning. –M_

When Lance finished reading the last line, he pondered for a moment, then stuffed the note in his pocket and walked inside, not sure if he should be euphorically thrilled or very, very, _very_ afraid of what would come of this later on.

~o~

Late that night when Merlin walked into his flat, he flopped down on the couch then dropped the blonde's ad on the floor and stared at it listlessly. He felt tired to the bone and even felt a bit dizzy—like he would lose consciousness at any minute, but he knew for a fact that he hadn't drunk anything in the past few hours or so.

Any normal person would call the number, meet the man from their childhood, return the album, and see if his or her dream was even still viable at that point, but then that would be called a reality check. And that was the last thing Merlin wanted.

Merlin let out an exhausted sigh and turned over on his other side. But the more the blonde—who Merlin didn't yet know was the son of one of the most powerful men in Albion's economic world—continued to come up on his mind, he felt like he was unconditionally falling in love with him more and more with every hour spent.

So it was no surprise when the young warlock went to sleep and found himself dreaming about Arthur Pendragon pressing him into a full-blown kiss against an ancient castle wall in the dead of night.

Merlin moaned as he leaned into the blonde's warm, affectionate touch, the soft, shimmering moonlight flooding the shadows and illuminating nothing but smooth, fair skin.

Something about the vision had felt so very wrong to Merlin, but at the same time it had felt so right, as if the two boys were purposely made for each other.

As if they'd both been forged as two sides of the same coin.


	6. Chapter 5

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::.*~_Chapter Five_~*.::.

The next morning, Lance fulfilled what he thought was his first ever delivery and picked the biggest, reddest apples for the mysterious Mr. Kil Gharrah before taking the box to his room at 7:00 a.m. on the dot.

When he finally reached Room 624 just as the note had required him to do, Lance gave the door a reluctant knock and froze when he was greeted by a grand, booming voice.

"Come in, boy."

For a moment, he just stood there, hesitating briefly before finally putting his hand on the doorknob and pushing the door open, revealing a silhouette sitting tall at a table at the other side of the room. Lance cleared his throat then proceeded to greet the old man in his polite, cordial tone that he always used for each and every one of his customers.

"Good morning, Mr. Kil Gharrah, I—" But when he stepped into the room and saw that there was another person sitting with The Glass Man, he paused and immediately started to back up again into the threshold.

"Oh—I'm sorry," Lance amended, giving an uneasy chuckle. "I didn't realise you had a visitor—"

"Well I'll be damned," the other silhouette blurted out all of a sudden. "_Lancelot? _That you, mate?"

In that instant, Lancelot's eyes widened tenfold, and he stumbled, almost dropping the box of apples in his hands. "_No_...Gwaine? How in the world did you—"

Before he could say anything more, Gwaine jumped up from his seat and walked towards him with an amused expression on his face. "Huh. If it isn't my old football colleague from the Golden Age."

Lancelot frowned, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. "Whoa—what on earth are you doing here? Not that I'm not glad to see you, but..." He paused, glancing over to look at The Glass Man, who was clad in an olive green turtleneck sweater and a brown Trapper hat. "What's going on?"

Kil Gharrah closed his eyes and sighed, his hands folded on the table. "Sit down, Mr. du Lac," he replied wearily, gesturing to a nearby chair.

Lance cleared his throat, putting the apples down on the table next to him before he moved forth to take a seat beside The Glass Man.

Gwaine laughed then took an apple from the box and followed him promptly, tossing the red fruit in his hand. "You couldn't possibly be _that_ friend Merlin's been telling me about all this time," he began, sitting across from Kil Gharrah. "Not a former Knight like you."

At that moment, Lancelot stiffened, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him. "_Merlin?_ But how do you know—" Flustered and caught off-guard, he quickly turned to look at The Glass Man. "What's this all about? What did he tell you two?"

Gwaine rolled his eyes and sighed, gesturing to him with the apple in his hand. "Well, we'll know soon enough once you tell us what's wrong," he replied pointedly at Lance. "Now what's all this rubbish I've been hearing, mate? Something happen after you left the Round?"

Lancelot grew quiet for a second then shrugged, his face masked with nonchalance. "I don't know what you're talking about," he answered evenly.

But Gwaine didn't at all look convinced. "Don't you, now?" he drawled, taking a bite out of the crimson fruit. "Mmm—these are actually good apples. Where'd you happen to find such fine produce? Eh, Lance?"

Lancelot lowered his eyes half-heartedly then began to recite words that had been put into his mouth for more than four years and which he'd been taught to repeat over and over again to every customer who visited the grocer's stand. "Hand picked fresh, straight from Mr. Hengist Collignon—"

The Glass Man held up a finger to cut him off, and Lancelot looked at him confusedly. "There's your problem," Kil Gharrah spoke in a wise voice. "Just like your own friend said, you often tend to allow that arrogant, worthless swine of a man step all over you as if you were nothing but scum."

Suddenly, Lancelot's expression grew sheepish. "Oh. I assume Merlin told you about that?"

Gwaine tossed his apple again and took another bite, speaking with his mouth full. "To the last detail. We know each other from the café he works at."

Lance frowned, lowering his gaze in embarrassment. "It's not like I let him do this to me on _purpose_," he began, "I just don't want to lose my job—"

"Mr. du Lac," The Glass Man spoke again. "If you are going to go anywhere in life, then you need to get past anything that stands in your way. Repeat after me: Collignon, down the john."

Lance looked at him with baffled eyes. "…What?"

Gwaine stood up to flip his chair around, then sat down with his chin resting on the backrest. "If you want to get anything from this, more so get the woman you _want_, you'll do just what he says," he sighed. "Come on. Collignon, down the john."

"Er..." Lancelot swallowed hard, reluctant. "All right. Collignon, down the john."

The Glass Man uttered a small sound of approval and nodded once. "Very good. Now make one of your own, boy."

There was a moment of silence. Then Lance opened his mouth again and spoke with a tentative, uncertain tone. "Hm. What about Collignon…big moron?"

The Glass Man and Gwaine broke out into a fit of laughter, and pretty soon, so did Lance as well.

"More like Collignon, dead and gone!" Gwaine chortled.

"Collignon, dead and gone!" Lancelot chuckled, enunciating each word with enthusiasm.

~o~

That morning, Room 624 was overflowing with laughter, so much that even Merlin could hear his three friends all the way from upstairs in his own flat. The young warlock chuckled to himself, then glanced out his window to look at the back of the grocer's stand to see none other than Hengist Collignon asleep with his head stuck in his own box of produce.

Oh, what a rude awakening it had been for him to find his alarm clock set back four hours, his toothpaste switched with his own foot cream, and the electricity just in his own flat messing around with his mind: the television set going inexplicably berserk, the light switching on and off by themselves! Even his appliances seemed like they all had minds of their own!

Merlin hadn't even had to use much magic, but it had still been entertaining that morning to see Hengist get slapped right in the face with a taste of his own medicine! Merlin's mood had brightened more than enough from the previous night, especially when he'd gone downstairs later to see Lancelot handing two ladies some tomatoes and fresh heads of lettuce with a genuine smile on his face.

"Here you are, now," Lancelot beamed, the two women smiling at him with flushed pink cheeks.

"Where's your boss?" they both asked in unison.

In response, Lance laughed. "Oh, old Collignon?" He slowly shook his head and chuckled to himself, then leaned over to speak to them in a softer voice. "Why, he's in the back, look, asleep in the cauliflower."

At this, both ladies giggled and genially thanked him before they left with their newly filled baskets in hand.

Merlin smiled, feeling a warm tickle at the bottom of his heart after he saw just how much he was finally able to help Lancelot.

But his smile abruptly faded into an expression of uncertainty as he reached into his pocket to take out a particularly crumpled piece of orange paper.

~o~

As Merlin dialled the number on the nearest pay phone, he looked around to see if any of the passing commuters were staring at him from a distance.

He was only using the phone at the train station in case the place he was calling had Caller ID, and for 60p to come out of his pocket, Merlin _especially_ didn't want the blonde getting hold of his number in the worst-case scenario that he would end up being the one to pick up.

After all, he could only picture the latter's face during their last encounter at the photo booth—glistening pools of sapphire wide with realisation when he knew he'd found the stranger from the album.

Merlin lowered his eyes, letting out a sigh as the phone rang three times.

It was only a few seconds before there was a click on the other line and a female voice, not Arthur's thankfully, but one that was a little too high-pitched and bouncy for his own taste.

"Isle Blessed Records," the girl's voice chimed cheerfully from the receiver.

Merlin cleared his throat, pulling at the red scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "Yes," he began politely, glancing down at the crumpled paper in his other hand. "I'm calling about the ad?"

There was a brief silence. "Sorry, we're not hiring anyone at this point," the girl replied dispassionately.

At this, Merlin shook his head and sighed. "No, I'm talking about the ad for—" He paused and thought long and hard for a moment as he fiddled for the right words to say, not wanting to butcher anything up when the conversation had only started.

God—why was he so terrible at verbal communication with other people?

Before he knew it though, the next few words spontaneously flooded from his lips. "Is uh..._Arthur_ there, by chance?" he asked, surprised at how he quickly he'd come to remember the blonde's name when all he'd really looked at was the number on the orange page. At first, the name seemed strange on the tip of his tongue, but then just like that, he found himself sucking in a gulp of air as another memory came forth from the corners of his mind, this time familiar from that one moment in his childhood when he'd been saved by a child not much older than he was—a boy who'd reminded him that life was a gift that only came once.

But at the same time, a tremor ran through his spine when he'd remembered the stringent face of the young blonde's father, who'd called him over with a horrifyingly disgruntled tone after he'd seen the two of them holding hands outside the sea of local commuters.

"_Arthur?"_

In that instant, Merlin shook his head and sighed, shaking the recollection from his head and not wanting to remember the contempt in the man's icy gaze. Even more so, he wanted to forget the shocked look in Arthur's eyes when he'd suddenly let go of his hand and backed away as if Merlin had been the most terrible monster...

He was officially brought out of his reverie, however, when all of a sudden the girl's voice turned from heart-warmingly mellifluous and affable to discordantly mordant and hostile.

"Excuse me!?" the girl shrilled, almost screaming mercilessly into Merlin's sensitive ear.

The young warlock winced, holding the phone a tad distance away from his trembling eardrum. He didn't even get a chance to respond before she was already hanging up on him with incomprehensible disgust.

"Of course not! Who the hell do you think _you_ are anyway? Goodbye!"

Click.

Merlin stood there with a dumbfounded expression on his face, pressing his forehead against the wall as the dial tone flooded through his ears.

~o~

Sophia slammed the phone down and exhaled sharply, glancing at her freshly painted nails.

From the other side of the vintage record shop, Morgana couldn't help but turn around to look at her with a bemused expression. "_Well—_now who in the world was that?"

Sophia only gave a shrug, tucking a few strands of long, reddish-blonde hair behind one ear and examining her nails even closer in a manner that made her look extremely vain.

"No one," she replied curtly, not even bothering to meet Morgana's gaze. She waved her other hand, as if she were dismissing the subject altogether. "Some...boy. Wrong number."

_Some good-for-nothing boy who thinks he's got a chance at stealing MY precious Arthur away from me! Hmph! _Sophia thought bitterly to herself.

Morgana sighed and shrugged, reaching over to grab her pocketbook. "I'm going out to buy a coffee," she spoke, then turned to look at Sophia. "In the meantime, please don't scare any customers while I'm gone..."

Sophia's eyebrows raised up to her hairline as she looked up at her from her nails. "Oh," she began in a matter-of-fact tone. "Well actually, I'm leaving early today to go shopping with Father. Maybe Morgause can take over for me then."

Morgana chuckled half-heartedly, walking out the front door. "Right."

"What was that?" Sophia shot back, eyes narrowed like the slits of a serpent's nostrils.

"What?" Morgana laughed, glancing over her shoulder. "Oh, nothing, nothing, love...I'll be back in a few minutes. Be sure to tell Arthur that in case he gets back here before I do."

And with that, she slowly shook her head, murmuring to herself as she stepped out onto the sidewalk.

~o~

Merlin heaved a long, heavy sigh, burying his face into his palms as he turned to lean with his back on the stations' graffiti-decorated wall.

On one of the previous mornings when Merlin had spent his time off in The Glass Man's flat, The Glass Man had come up to him with a cup of hot cocoa and gingerbread for the young warlock. Then the two had sat down again as Merlin watched Kil Gharrah continue to paint his latest masterpiece.

After a while, however, Merlin had been more than surprised by the next few words that came from the old man's shrewd mouth.

_"I think I was a bit rude to the boy with the glass, young warlock,"_ The Glass Man began in a sincere, apologetic voice. Then he shifted his gaze to look curiously at Merlin. _"Tell me...the boy he met. Did he see him again?"_

Merlin had only lowered his eyes, his countenance sombre. _"Only once upon a dream,"_ he sighed desolately. _"Well—more than one dream. Several, actually."_

Kil Gharrah nodded contemplatively, considering the young warlock's response. _"I see…and would these 'dreams' occur very often?"_

Merlin hesitated for a moment, then tentatively nodded back. _"Well…yes, but I never seem to understand what happens in any of them…"_ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath_. "One minute we're hiding behind a dark cavern and then in the next I'm protecting him from being struck down by a colossal giant the size of three men stacked up on one another's shoulders…I don't even know if they're all _supposed_ to mean anything." _ He glanced back at Kil Gharrah, who stared at him amusedly with an odd gleam in his golden eyes.

_"Interesting,"_ The Glass Man remarked, scratching the bristles under his chin. _"And what about in person, young warlock?"_

Merlin slowly shook his head and blinked. _"No,"_ he murmured quietly, then paused. _"In fact, they might not even be interested in the same things."_

_"I see…"_ Kil Gharrah replied, dipping his brush into a blotch of bright, sea green paint. After a while, he pursed his lips, glancing up at the boy with the glass. _"You know, opportunities tend to be like the shooting stars the lot of you search for at night just to make a meaningful wish. You wait a long time for it and it goes by quickly, but when the right time comes, you have to jump without hesitation."_

At that present moment, Merlin gave a sharp exhale as he finished recollecting his conversation with The Glass Man. Then, he stood up straight and began walking out of the train station.

Meanwhile, far at the other side of the station, the blonde named Arthur Pendragon dragged himself out of the photo machine, shuffling through all the newly collected scraps that he had been able to gather in the past half-hour or so.

~o~

Arthur's life hadn't always been spent with every day collecting useless photographs that people decided to rip up and scatter to the winds (or so they thought, the ignorant litterbugs).

Not before when his family had still been somewhat of a whole.

It was a quirk he had only developed after his father had finally gone too far in persecuting him for his bisexuality—after a night of yelling, screaming, and breaking windows that ended in Arthur being kicked gracelessly out of his own house, along with most of his things. And, after a few weeks, Uther had thrown Morgana out too, the moment he'd unexpectedly discovered her intimate relationship with Morgause.

They'd still managed to find each other though, Arthur and Morgana, and helped each other pick up the pieces remaining from the mess they'd left back at home. But since then, Arthur's family had never been the same—especially not after Ygraine had decided to divorce Uther for disowning her precious children and even worse now that she'd been lost to a fatal car accident.

Arthur didn't just collect these broken snapshots like this for no reason. Since then...it gave him a bit of a small pleasure because it was something he could actually manage to fix by himself—put back together the way it was before with his own hands—unlike his life and his family.

Carefully, he placed the new pieces on the floor and sorted them by shades of colour, then put them back together into the original photos of the people who had tried to dispose of them in the first place. Arthur sat there with a small, satisfied grin on his face—but it wasn't long before he frowned when he remembered that he now had no place to put them. Knowing that, he cursed himself and tried to think back, wondering where he could have possibly left that photo album.

That was when he caught a glimpse of the clock nearby.

It was 9:00. He was going to be late for his second job at the Camelot Funfair.

Arthur sighed, pensively scratching the back of his blond head. _Maybe by tomorrow someone might have found it, _he thought wearily to himself.

He got up from the floor and patted the dirt off his jeans, then promptly walked out of the train station.

~o~

Merlin stood hesitantly outside of the music shop and gazed at the faded sign hanging over the front door:

**Isle Blessed Records**

He walked in to see to see a red room, filled with all sorts of feng shui and shelves full of records and other classic collectibles. Merlin wandered about the room, looking for people he could possibly talk to, but for some reason, no one was present at the front counter.

It wasn't until he heard the jingle of the door behind him and a female voice that he turned around to see a strikingly beautiful woman a few years off from him, with pale green eyes on an ivory complexion and long, dark hair. She stepped forward, dressed in blue-grey stiletto shoes and a silky lavender dress that just reached down to her ankles, and looked at Merlin with an oddly fascinated expression on her face.

"Hello, love…can I help you?"

Instinctively, Merlin lowered his eyes, too shy already to meet the other's amused, scintillating gaze. But then he swallowed hard and cleared his throat, reaching out to hand her the photo album he'd found in Arthur's knapsack.

"Um..." he began slowly, timidly glancing down at his feet, "…I found this on the pavement?"

Morgana paused, then looked down at the album, only to recognise it with wide eyes in an instant. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, half-laughing to herself with a relieved countenance. "Oh, Arthur's going to be _so_ happy. I almost went to church to even burn a candle for the heavens to find it!"

At this, Merlin couldn't help but fight back a smile and bit his lower lip nervously. "Er…is Arthur around?" he asked tentatively.

But the dark-haired woman sadly shook her head and moved past him to put the two caramel macchiatos she was holding down on the front counter, then hung up her pocketbook and scarf on the wall beside them. "Sorry, not on Wednesdays," she replied in a repentant voice. "He's probably working at the Funfair at this hour."

Merlin frowned, trying very hard not to let his face grow too sombre. He examined the album once more, flipping through its old, torn pages. "Has he been collecting these for a long time?"

Morgana paused, then glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled. "For a year now," she chuckled, turning around to face Merlin with bright eyes. "I know he's an odd sort, but...it's the only thing that keeps him occupied, you know? Those aren't the only things he's collected before, though."

Merlin looked up, listening curiously to her with raised eyebrows.

Morgana shrugged, contemplative as she ran a hand over the worn-out cover of the photo album. "When Arthur used to travel a lot," she began in a calm voice, "he collected stones wherever he went someplace new—sometimes skipped them along the rivers he would pass."

Merlin's eyes widened with surprised intrigue. "Really? What did he do for a living?"

She sighed, taking her hand off the book with a fond, reminiscent expression. "Well...he used to be part of a theatre troupe. It was always his dream to make other people happy—even though his character always wore a mask." She pursed her lips to glance down at her nails, which had been painted a very interesting shade of smooth scarlet. "He accepted it though, most of the time because he didn't want anyone, especially his raving fangirls, to see his face and recognise..."

All of a sudden, Morgana paused, as if she were remembering a terrible event from her past, but in the next second, Merlin noticed her shake it off and could only stare down diffidently at the floor.

_Fangirls, _he thought to himself, grimacing.

"Can't have always been easy for his girlfriend then?" he found himself asking, the last few words coming out in an awkward, sheepish tone. What if Arthur didn't even have one?

But Morgana only chuckled and only shook her head slowly with a rueful grin on her face. "Oh, he and her...they never stayed for long," she sighed, looking past Merlin's head to gaze distantly to the other side of the room. "Times _are_ hard for dreamers, if you must know."

Merlin nodded, his face pensive. When he looked up, he was surprised to see the other staring back at him with a warm, empathetic smile. However, in the next instant, there was a shuffle from the other side of the room that caused both of them to turn.

"Morgana, did you get me a coffee?"

When Merlin raised his head, he saw a petite but semi-muscular blonde clad in a dark red sleeveless turtleneck with skin-tight black jeans and posh leather boots that almost reached up to her knees. She emerged from what seemed to be the back closet of the store, carrying a large box of CDs to a nearby shelf and looking at Merlin with a pointed gaze.

At that moment, Morgana sighed and shifted her gaze towards him again. "Sorry, love, I've got to go," she spoke in a fond voice. "Thanks again for the album."

She reached out to take the large book of photos from Merlin's hands but then, for some reason, stopped to look at him with an amused expression. "Um…" she began, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

Merlin glanced down and gaped when he found himself hugging the photo album close to his chest. "Oh!" he blurted in disbelief. But almost immediately he caught himself, still in the presence of Morgana, and masked his anxiety with a half chuckle. "Oh, I'm sorry, I, uh…"

_Oh here we go again, Emrys. Get it together, for God's sake—you can do this. You can speak fucking English…_

He cleared his throat, fighting to maintain a genial smile on his face. "I thought I'd bring it to him myself at the Funfair, um—if that's all right with you, I mean?" Merlin added hastily and shrugged, glancing up at Morgana with a nervous countenance.

However, Morgana only laughed and nodded at him with a promising grin. "That _would_ be a better idea, wouldn't it?" she chuckled, then took a deep breath. "All right—he's over where the Essetir Dungeon is. Just ask for Arthur Pendragon, and you should be okay."

Merlin let out a sigh of relief and was just about to open his mouth again to reply, when suddenly he heard a thump from the other side of the room. He froze, turning to see the blonde woman standing stiffly before the front counter with her back facing towards him.

"If, by chance, the man at the ticket booth asks you to send me any particular greeting..." She began in a tight voice, glancing over her shoulder to look at Merlin with steely eyes. "...tell him that I said he can burn in the fieriest pits of hell, where there'll be nothing left of him except his charred innards boiling on the molten rock for the fiends to gobble up." She crouched down, picking up the stack of records that she'd managed to drop on the floor.

Merlin gulped, nodding timidly as he unsteadily made his way to the door.

Morgana slowly shook her head. "Morgause," She sighed, wincing at the young warlock contritely. "I'm sorry, her temper can get a little out of hand, especially when it comes to that man specifically," She bit her bottom lip, tentative. "I hope we haven't scared you yet?"

Merlin gave a soft chuckle and smiled warmly at the brunette. "Not quite yet, you haven't."

And then he was gone.

~o~

After walking just a few more blocks from Isle Blessed Records and passing the towering Cathedral of Gedref, Merlin had finally managed to find the Camelot Funfair—and now stood tremulously before the tall, surly man who was presently keeping charge of the ticket booth for the Essetir Dungeon attraction. His hair fell over his face in coarse brown strands and his arms looked as muscular as Lance's—just that if they were ever put to the test, God forbid, they could very easily snap Merlin like a twig.

In that instant, Merlin felt a chill run down his spine and wondered if this man was the one that the blonde named Morgause had warned him about in blistering contempt. He smiled nervously at first, when the burly man raised an eyebrow at him. Then the young warlock cleared his throat, opening his mouth to—

_Speak words, Merlin._ _Speak intelligible words, _he thought anxiously to himself. "Ahem," Merlin began, uncertainly meeting the ticket booth keeper's intimidating gaze. "Hi, um...Cenred," he spoke, glancing at the latter's name tag with a forced smile. "Is…is Arthur here?"

Cenred narrowed his eyes at him, then glanced back at the attraction before pointedly observing Merlin from behind the glass. "What do you want from him? He doesn't come out till 12," he barked in a gruff voice.

At this, Merlin swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to maintain at least a little bit of composure. "Er...can I see him before? It's kind of important," he managed with a nervous chuckle. "Please?"

Cenred looked at him dauntingly from the other side of the window, then sighed. "Sure," he replied coolly.

Merlin exhaled, feeling the heavy weight dissipate from his chest, but when he looked up, he could have sworn his heart stopped when he saw Cenred raise his fist, as if he were about to break the glass and tear apart him limb from limb. But that was when Cenred slammed it down on the counter, and Merlin heard a small ding_._

Then he timorously looked up, only to see the cash register open and shifted his gaze inquisitively towards Cenred.

"£2.50," Cenred snorted, smirking impishly.

~o~

When Merlin reached the entrance to the ride, he was led to sit in a boat that brought him inside a frightening tunnel, full of nothing but petrifying ghouls and blood curdling screams. One would think it resembled the river Styx in the underworld of Hades himself, with the phantoms that lingered about the walls and the skeletons that Merlin saw, groaning and making eerie noises—the chilling sound of chains rattling furiously and of teeth gnashing fiercely.

Of course, it was obvious to Merlin that the animatronics were made especially to scare children, but still he felt afraid—not because of the sounds and spooks inside the Essetir Dungeon—but because it was so _dark_.

When Merlin was a child, he'd developed a pathological fear of pure darkness. It had only gotten even worse after the accident that he'd unintentionally wreaked on all of Ealdor, the storm swallowing both his parents into a terrible oblivion. Even to that point, he still remembered sitting in the ominous gloom of his bedroom, listening as the house shook violently under the merciless winds of the vicious hurricane he couldn't control.

But over time, that fear had gradually dwindled...

That is, until the instant when the boat stopped inside a part of the tunnel where nothing was there to see _but _darkness, and it was only dimly lit enough for Merlin to see his own silhouette in the water.

Then everything grew deathly silent.

After a while, there was a chill in the air, and the young warlock shivered, his breath coming out in fleeting puffs as he waited for the worst to emerge from the mysterious shadows. It was only moments before the boat shifted slightly, and he heard something—a ghost slink past behind his back. He stiffened when, all of a sudden, he heard a faint, unnerving whisper just over his left shoulder—

"_Hoooooo..._"

Immediately, Merlin's breath hitched, and he cracked his eyes open a bit just enough to catch a glimpse of the murky water, where he could just barely see the cryptic silhouette of a cloaked figure hovered _right_ next to him.

Merlin's eyes almost bulged at the sight, and already he was having trouble trying to restrain himself in his seat and _not _hyperventilate to death.

Oh, why did he ever choose to go on this ride alone? He could have at least brought Gwaine or Lance with him before he'd left his flat…

"_Hoooooo..._" the cloaked shadow groaned again.

Merlin closed his eyes again and took a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders so that he was hugging himself for comfort.

There was only one thing that he couldn't seem to figure out though: at that point, he should have been _terrified_—shitless and out of his fucking mind.

But for some odd reason, he was not, and things got even stranger when the figure leaned over to whisper into Merlin's ear.

The phantom had been so close to Merlin—so close that its lips brushed slightly against the shell of his ear and its cool breath tickled the bare skin on the side of his neck.

Instead of trembling and screaming bloody murder like a typical customer would usually have done, a low moan escaped from Merlin's throat, and, as if by instinct, Merlin found himself leaning his head against the latter's chin. Then it was only a matter of time before the young warlock noticed that the _slightest_ familiarity in the cloaked figure's husky voice but couldn't quite put his finger on it until the phantom suddenly stiffened.

As soon as Merlin heard the other's sharp intake of breath, he opened his eyes, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Although he didn't dare to meet the mysterious shadow's gaze, he managed to see part of the black cloak draped over the side of the boat. Merlin gulped, struggling to mentally command himself to keep breathing, but his attention was only focused on how the figure was still pressed against him and strangely hadn't moved a single muscle.

The next word unconsciously slipped from the tip of Merlin's tongue. "Arthur?" he whispered in a soft, hopeful voice.

But there was only silence.

Then suddenly, Merlin heard a ragged exhale against his ear and realised that the phantom of Essetir Dungeon had just started breathing again. It was the next thing, however, that finally got the young warlock to look straight into its eyes.

"Who are you?" the cloaked figure murmured hoarsely, above a hushed whisper.

Merlin whipped his head up to meet wide cerulean irises, staring back at him as they shimmered in the low light and resembled two pools of liquid sapphire. Merlin gave a startled gasp, his breath hitching as his mouth gaped with astonishment. The phantom's gaze never let up, fixed and unyielding on the young warlock's flustered countenance.

Before Merlin could exchange the slightest whisper, the doors in front of him suddenly opened, flooding the dark chamber with warm, dazzling sunlight.

When he turned to look beside him again, the mysterious shadow had disappeared.

~o~

As the boat took him outside towards the beginning of the stream, where the attendant was busily helping another rider climb out of her own boat, Merlin's mind was riddled nonstop in a whirlwind of thoughts. Could that really have been the blonde he'd seen rummaging under the photo machine all those days ago?

A moment later, after the boat finally came to an abrupt halt, Merlin unsteadily stepped off the ride. Then in the next instant, he was quickly brought out of his reverie when he caught sight of a familiar silver motorbike with a license plate of "XCALIBR" parked just by the exit.

As an elaborate plan slowly began to brew in the back of Merlin's wild imagination, a small smile crept its way onto the young warlock's face.

~o~

An hour later, after the large master clock struck 12:00 in the middle of the Camelot Funfair, Arthur Pendragon walked out of the Essetir Dungeon. Exhausted from hours of scaring countless customers out of their pants and freezing in that cold, dark chamber, he heaved a sigh as he passed the exit gate but then froze when he noticed a particular piece of paper taped onto the right handle of his motorbike.

Promptly, Arthur walked over to peel the paper off from where it was hanging and raised an eyebrow to see that it was, indeed, one of the photos from his album pasted together. He turned it over, only to see a message scribbled on the back:

_Tomorrow. 12:00 p.m. Camelot Carousel._

Arthur frowned inquisitively at the note, then looked around to see if anyone out of the ordinary was lingering about, but to his surprise, no one was near the vicinity. With that, he slowly shook his head and shrugged, stuffing the re-assembled photo into his pocket and driving off on _Excalibur_.

Meanwhile, Merlin watched the blonde leave, unseen from a distance.

Of course, it would have been a lot easier if he had just hung the knapsack back onto the motorbike instead of leaving a simple but _special_ note on the handle telling Arthur to come back another time, but something in the corner of the young warlock's mind told him to do this instead, under the slightest hope that maybe, just _maybe, _this would end up being the first step in meeting the blonde boy he once knew before all over again. He grinned fondly at the heart-warming thought, then slung the red knapsack over his shoulder and turned to walk in the opposite direction.


	7. Chapter 6

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::.*~_Chapter Six_~*.::.

Arthur stumbled back to his own flat before taking off his shoes and throwing himself face down on the pale blue sheets of his bed. Exhaling sharply, he buried his face in his pillow as he thought relentlessly of the dark-haired boy who'd shockingly recognised him on the Essetir Dungeon ride—in _pitch black_ darkness.

Had it even been humanly possible? Arthur himself couldn't know for sure. Usually his customers would be too afraid to look up at his concealed semblance, but that boy in particular had not, for some unexplained reason.

Suddenly, he heard a _psst_ and raised his head to see that it was coming from his coat pocket on the couch.

"Psst! Boy!" the voice whispered fussily.

For a moment, Arthur sat there, baffled as he tiredly got up on his feet and walked over to dig into his pocket, only to pull out the pasted photo. But then his eyes widened in an instant when he saw that the woman depicted in the photo was blinking back at him—as if by magic. Arthur rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and looked down at the blue-eyed brunette in complete and utter disbelief.

The woman smiled slyly, flipping her hair over her bare shoulder and laughing at him. "Hello, handsome," she began, amusedly raising an eyebrow. "I am Madame Nimueh." She pursed her lips and pointedly fixed her gaze on Arthur's with an odd gleam in her deep azure eyes. "You'd like to know more about _him_—wouldn't you?"

Arthur swallowed and looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "Don't tell me you know…"

Nimueh chuckled, leaning back against her marble throne. "But of course I do!" she exclaimed. "You must know I _was_ in his pocket, after all..." She paused, looking down to fix her billowing dark crimson dress. "He's gifted for his age, that one. Otherwise now we wouldn't even be talking to each other at all."

Arthur frowned, knitting his eyebrows in confusion. "You mean this is real? You're not just a figment of my imagination?"

Immediately, she glared up at him with an offended look and scoffed. "Blink a few times, Mr. Pendragon. Am I still here?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, what's he like, then, if you're here to tell me?"

Nimueh fumbled a little to fix the ruffles on her dress, then took a deep breath. "He's not a bad person," she began in a fond, even tone. "Tall. Dark hair. Adorable cheekbones and ears everywhere," She paused, smirking a little. "But he's got a good heart. Always thinks of other people before himself."

Arthur gazed at her, pensive. "…What does he want from me?" He uttered in a barely audible whisper.

Nimueh thought for a moment, then sighed, twirling her long curly brown hair. "Well, a _reward_ of some sort, one could say."

Arthur frowned again, perplexity filling his expression. "But I don't even know the bloke," He murmured with a shrug. "How could he possibly have anything to do with me?"

"Oh, you _think _he _doesn't, _Arthur Pendragon," Nimueh spoke wisely. "But there are many things in this world and time alone that you wouldn't even imagine realising for yourself. Some date back to the years of the ancient dragons, in a land of myths where a great kingdom once stood in its prime."

"All right," He spoke with a raised eyebrow, not knowing how else to respond to that last comment. "Well, is he broke? Or does he expect me to pay for my album back just so he can make a quick coin?"

Nimueh rolled her eyes and threw her arms up helplessly into the air. "You still don't understand, do you?"

Arthur shook his head.

Nimueh buried her face in her palms and took a deep breath. "Oh, throw me a bone, you stupid sod! He's in_ love_ with you!"

At that moment, Arthur inhaled sharply, instantly recalling the way the boy had leaned close to him during the ride—as if he were the world's largest teddy bear, in all honesty. "With _me_?" he asked, incredulous to all that he was hearing. "But that's not possible."

Nimueh let out a groan of disbelief. "Yes, it is! Don't you see?"

Arthur frowned. "Since when?" He glanced down at Nimueh, only to see her slowly shaking her head in disappointment. "We've never even had a formal conversation!"

"Since forever!" she hissed. "Don't deny how you've seen him more than once in your own dreams!"

Suddenly, a gust of wind blustered right in through Arthur's open window and blew the photo out of the blonde's hand. In a split second, he strode to close the window shut, then rushed back over to pick up the photo of Madame Nimueh. However, he was stunned to see that the woman was back in her original, static pose.

Then, out of nowhere, a faint image flooded Arthur's mind—of a small boy about the age of ten, with an alabaster complexion and dishevelled jet-black hair, gazing up at him wide-eyed on a row of wooden train tracks.

Big _blue_ eyes that very much resembled the ones he'd come face-to-face with on the ride earlier that morning.

Arthur swallowed hard and stiffened, as if his whole world stopped for the slightest moment.

But it _couldn't_ be.

~o~

The next day, at 12:00 p.m. sharp, Arthur stood patiently outside the Camelot Funfair gate—waiting for the stranger who wrote him the note. When another image of the boy popped up in his imagination, he immediately shook it off, not wanting to jump into any conclusions just yet. After all, he couldn't be sure until he actually saw him again.

Arthur sighed and looked down at his wristwatch. It was 12:05, and still the dark-haired boy was nowhere to be found. He heaved an exasperated sigh and turned to get back on his motorbike to leave, but that was when all of a sudden, the payphone situated a few feet away from him, next to the main ticket booth, started to ring on its own.

Flabbergasted, Percival, who'd just taken his shift as the present attendant at the front booth, walked over to pick the phone up from the receiver.

Arthur watched him closely for a few seconds, then raised an eyebrow in surprise when Percival turned to call him over. "Er…it's for you, Mr. Pendragon," he spoke awkwardly, holding out the phone to the blonde.

Arthur frowned confusedly, walking over to take it from his hand. "Thanks, Percival," he replied, and Percival was left to do nothing but nod back with a forced smile before returning to his post.

For a moment, Arthur hesitated then carefully put the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he spoke with an uncertain tone.

The stranger on the other line cleared his throat and articulated in a clear, nonchalant voice. "Follow the blue arrows, Mr. Pendragon."

Arthur's expression grew incredulous. "_What?_"

But the only response he received was a click and a blaring dial tone, and Arthur looked around, at a loss of what he was expected to do next.

That was when something bright blue immediately caught his attention, and Arthur found himself glancing down to see a big chalk arrow drawn on the pavement beside him. Then he looked ahead to see a bunch more leading down a path he'd never taken before in his life. Arthur frowned, holding the phone back to his ear. "Hello?" he tried again, but no one was there to answer. He gave a frustrated huff, slamming the phone back on the receiver before he begrudgingly started to follow the blue arrows.

"Of all the ways he could possibly do this," Arthur grumbled under his breath.

~o~

By the time Arthur reached the last arrow, he was disgruntled when he realised he was at a dead end and found himself looking at the statue of a knight mounted on his horse with a lance in its bronze hand. Arthur slowly shook his head, looking around again to see if there was anyone out of the ordinary in sight, but much to his dismay, there was no one but numerous tourists with their cameras.

Then, from out of the blue, a hoarse voice spoke from behind him. "When a finger points to heaven, the idiot looks at the finger," it mused.

In that instant, Arthur turned around to see an old man dressed in a white cloak and holding a cane as he stared at him with an arched eyebrow.

Arthur frowned, looking back at the knight before following the direction of his pointed finger with his steadfast gaze until he caught sight of a blue sightseeing binocular machine up above where a family of four was conversing.

Without any second thoughts, he ran up to the bridge and grabbed hold of the machine, turning it until he could see a figure dressed in sunglasses and a black hoodie waving at him from afar. As soon as Arthur realised that the boy was standing next to his motorbike, the familiar red knapsack hanging on the handle again, the blonde let out a sharp exhale and backed away from the binocular machine with an exasperated expression.

"For _heaven's_ sake—oi!"

~o~

After a while, Arthur managed to sprint back to the front gate of the Funfair, only to see that the boy was no longer there. He sighed, taking his knapsack from Excalibur's handle, and looked inside, his eyes softening when he finally found what he'd been looking for such a long time. When he pulled out his photo album in delight, the pay phone rang again, and Arthur immediately ran over to pick it up. He took a deep breath before answering it in a half-exhausted, half-irritated tone:

"You _do_ realise that things would have been a lot easier if you'd just come to me in person and given it to me in my hand—"

"I know who the mysterious phantom is, Mr. Pendragon."

In that instant, Arthur's breath hitched. There was a pregnant pause and then a soft chuckle on the other line.

"He works in the Essetir Dungeon at the Funfair and wears a long, black cloak to hide his face from the people he tries so hard to thrill and entertain," the voice murmured fondly.

Arthur sucked in a gulp of air and swallowed hard. "Who _are _you?"

The furtive stranger cleared his throat. "If the _dollop_-head really wishes to meet me, then he must turn to page 51."

Arthur frowned, an offended expression plastered onto his already flustered face. "What did you call me?" But before the stranger could even answer, he slammed the phone back on its receiver_._

Arthur rolled his eyes then sighed as he hastily opened the photo album and hastily flipped the pages until he reached the specified page, but after that, it was as if the whole message slapped him in the face. Scattered all over pages 51 and 52 were multiple photos of various silhouettes of people, each head containing one word in white:

DO YOU WISH TO MEET

The last picture, however, was an interesting picture, indeed. It was the biggest of all the photographs and depicted none other than the dark-haired boy's shadow.

_ME? _The last word read in large cursive letters.

At that moment, Arthur slipped the latter's picture out of its plastic protective covering and stared at it closely.

~o~

When Arthur walked through the threshold of Isle Blessed Records, Morgana looked up from the collection she'd busily been organising and smirked triumphantly when she saw the newly found photo album wedged snugly under his arm.

"Life is _so_ beautiful, isn't it, dear brother?"

Arthur paused, then turned to narrow his eyes at his younger sister as he continued behind the counter to stand beside her. "You told him where I worked, didn't you?" he spoke accusingly.

Morgana sighed, pushing the box she'd been holding to the side. "Oh, so what if I did? He looked like your type, anyway..." Suddenly, she stopped to clear her throat. "I mean…well, not that I'd know, of course. Besides, I never did find any interest in blokes—not like you, that is."

Arthur made a small sound of protest then eyed her suspiciously. "What'd he look like?"

She pondered for a moment. "Tall…but very skinny for his age, if you asked me. Dark hair. Big blue eyes, almost like a puppy's." She shrugged. "About a couple years behind you, maybe. Adorable in his own boyish little way, I guess. Especially with those little cheekbones..."

Arthur took a deep breath, sitting down in his chair to look at the picture of the boy's silhouette. "Did he give you his name?"

Morgana frowned. "No. I'm afraid he didn't," she replied, contemplative. She pursed her lips, then peered over glance at the photograph in Arthur's hand. "But he _did _sort of ask me if you had a girlfriend," she added as an afterthought—or so Arthur had assumed it was.

He looked up at her, raising an eyebrow with intrigue. "And?"

Morgana shrugged. "_And_ I told him you weren't interested," she replied, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion. "You really aren't, right?"

But all Arthur did at that point was just _stare._ "You did not just tell me that."

Morgana gaped, for the first time speechless as her eyes widened with realisation. "Oh my—oh my god! _Arthur!_ You don't even know him! I absolutely had no idea!"

Arthur slowly shook his head and got up from his seat. "Exactly," he sighed, "That's the whole mystery."

At this, she couldn't help but squeal in delight, euphoric that her older brother had finally found someone. "Well, you won't find your answer here!" she laughed.

Arthur chuckled, looking down at the picture again.

"You're right," he uttered in a softer tone. "I won't."

~o~

That afternoon, when Merlin walked back to his flat, he stopped short when he saw a clamouring crowd around the grocer's stand and heard a crash. Immediately, the young warlock rushed over to push past numerous townsfolk and was shocked to see that Hengist Collignon was taunting poor Lancelot again.

But this time, Lance was on the ground, fending off against Mr. Collignon with an empty crate, holding it like the shield of a knight.

Not long after that, Merlin found Gwen at the other side of the crowd with a worried expression on her face and ran towards her to grab her calmly by the shoulder.

"What happened?" he cried, eyes wide with disbelief and concern.

Before he could get a reply from Gwen though, they suddenly heard a smash, and Merlin saw that Hengist was yelling red-faced at the top of his lungs, as if steam would come out of his ears any second. However, when the young warlock shifted his gaze to look at Lance, he saw that his face was very different at that point—calm but fierce at the same time.

Gwen had been anxiously biting at her lip, not knowing how to make of the situation.

At this, Merlin swallowed and cleared his throat. "You know... he's not just standing up for himself now," he began in a hushed murmur, then tilted his head slightly in the direction of where Lance was blocking another grapefruit from colliding full into his face. "He's doing this for you as well."

Gwen frowned, glancing at Merlin with a lost expression, but he only shrugged and looked back at Lance. "Maybe it'd help a lot; if you spoke up for him, too," he whispered.

Her eyes widened when she turned to see Lance continue to defend himself against Collignon.

Merlin smiled encouragingly at her, then discreetly left her side to make his way towards the back with the intention of forming a plan to help Lance. He instantly got an idea when he saw a few large rats scampering by the nearby gutter and looked at Hengist, who was now holding an empty barrel in the air, about to throw it to break Lance's ribcage.

But before he could even raise it over his big head, Merlin stealthily used his magic to stop time just for a few seconds and wordlessly prodded the rats into scurrying over towards Collignon's feet.

"Shame on you!" Gwen blurted out abruptly, horrified at what Hengist was about to do to poor Lancelot.

In that instant, everyone turned to look at her.

Gwen gulped, then turned to meet Lance's surprised gaze and scowled at Mr. Collignon with contempt. "Even artichokes have hearts!" she exclaimed.

Hengist Collignon had nothing but a disdainful expression on his face. But before he could do anything more, he suddenly felt a sharp pain on his right leg and let out a very unmanly shriek, dropping the barrel on his own scalp and falling to the ground on his fat arse.

At that moment, everyone started to laugh at him, especially when the broad-shouldered man felt another crunch on his leg and hastily rose up with the barrel on his head before he stumbled away from the crowd, knocking into countless things as he left.

Merlin snickered with self-satisfaction behind the curtain in the back but stopped when he saw Lance and Gwen looking at each other longingly. Gwen's cheeks flushed bright pink, and then she ran off without saying another word.

Merlin frowned and glanced down at Lance, who had still been watching her but with a sad, hopeless expression. At the same time, the sun was setting in the sky, and the crowd has already dispersed.

~o~

That night from just outside his room, Merlin overheard Gwaine talking to Lancelot near the threshold of The Glass Man's flat.

_"Lance—"_

_"I don't know what else to do, Gwaine," _Merlin heard Lancelot utter in defeat._ "I give up. Perhaps we should just consider the fact that she doesn't want me after all."_

Merlin's heart sank as he proceeded to listen to the conversation from the top of the stairwell, remembering how crestfallen Gwen had looked at the café the other morning.

There was a long pause and a sigh, and Gwaine slowly shook his head. _"You're missing the point, mate."_

_ "What?"_

Gwaine closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, looking at Lance. _"Look—if neither of you makes a move to at least _try_ and take this relationship to the next level, then you might as well just call everything off, because it'll never work like this."_

Only silence followed that last comment. Lance frowned, shaking his head at Gwaine, then turned to finally leave with a sombre expression on his face.

Merlin's eyes grew sad, and Gwaine looked up at Merlin from downstairs with an equally pathetic countenance. At that point, Gwaine could only shrug at him, not knowing what to do, then he turned to make his own way out the front door.

_Slam._

Merlin rose to his feet, standing alone with his fingers gripped tightly around the railing of the stairwell.

~o~

**WHERE**

**and**

**WHEN?**

The next morning, Merlin was _appalled_ to see countless copies of the picture of his silhouette taped throughout almost the whole train station.

In an instant, he ripped down the first one he saw, then hurried to get rid of the other ones before anyone else would actually have a chance at stopping to look at the numerous posters.

Once Merlin had retrieved all of them, he looked down at the poster on the top of the pile with an intent expression, his mouth pressing into a tight line.

He started this game. And in the end, he would be the one to finish it. If Arthur wanted to fight fire with fire, then Merlin would just have to make his flame grow even _bigger_.

~o~

Just one hour later, Merlin Emrys stepped into the nearest costume shop.

But at the same time, a young man about the age of 20 left his home on Triskel Street.

It was not until 40 minutes later when Merlin finally arrived at the only photo machine in the Grand Albion Station that at the same second, the mystery figure of the photo album parked in front of the side entrance.

~o~

Merlin snuck into the photo booth with his costume bag and slipped into a black jacket and a baseball cap that covered his eyes. Then he discreetly took out a scrap of paper from his pocket, and the camera flashed once before Merlin tiptoed out of the photo booth.

The moment his feet touched the ground, however, he was forced to stop dead in his tracks and froze when he saw a boy with hair as dark as night and eyes the colour of cold ice. He wore nothing but a pair of headphones around his neck, a black Rise Against T-shirt, ripped jeans, and dark teal Converse on his two feet.

His name was Mordred, and he was the key to the enigma of the photo machines.

The man Arthur Pendragon had always been looking for in the hopes of discovering his one true identity.

But for the time being, at this exact moment in the story, Merlin was the only one to know.


	8. Chapter 7

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::.*~_Chapter Seven_~*.::.

It was almost noon, and Arthur had just returned from the Cathedral of Gedref with a stack of posters tucked neatly under his arm as he rode his motorbike back on the network of streets that surrounded Grand Albion Station.

He looked around with a smirk, satisfied when he saw copious images of the dark-haired boy now stuck to every wall, shop window, and lamp post all over town. Parked outside Grand Albion Station, Arthur chuckled to himself. When he made his way to the photo machine, he couldn't help but take out one of the ads from under his arm before looking at it with a smug expression on his face.

_You wanted a game in the first place, _Arthur thought self-assuredly to himself._ Oh, you'll _get_ one hell_ _of a game, all right._

He slowly shook his head and sighed to himself as he continued to walk down the brick path. He was forced to stop short though, when he finally came across the photo booth and saw that the posters he'd put up earlier that morning were no longer there. At that point, Arthur could only guess the reason why. He sighed with a smile, crouching down beside the photo machine in his usual pose then reaching under to search for a possible message from the boy, if not more new ripped up photos he could spend his time later putting back together. The second he felt the familiar sleekness of film paper against his fingers, Arthur instantly swept the fragments out with his hand and brought them out into the open where he could see them.

There ended up being numerous pieces hidden under the photo machine, but Arthur was more than surprised when he realised that they were all part of just one photo, and because there were so many, it would take a quite a while to put the pieces back together. Compared to any ripped up photograph Arthur had seen, this one seemed slightly different: usually, he would usually find pictures torn up into five or six pieces at most, under the understandable impression that the person had been in a real hurry at the time to eradicate the photo. But now, for the picture he had just found, it was as if the person had _intentionally _spent an extensive amount of time and effort to ensure that the pieces were so small that not just _anyone _could piece back together his or her identity.

As if this person didn't want to be recognised right off the bat—especially in a place as public as a local train station.

At this, Arthur pondered over the peculiar photo, gathering the fragments in his hands and shoving them into his pocket.

~o~

Merlin was back in his flat again, lying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling with a blank countenance as thoughts of Mordred continued to riddle his mind. He frowned contemplatively, remembering the features of the mystery stranger from Arthur's album—from his dark, curly hair to his teal Converse—and then tried to match them up to the running man he'd seen Arthur chasing before.

All of a sudden, he was knocked out of his reverie when he heard a knock at the door and got up from the couch in his socks to answer it.

When Merlin opened the door, he found nothing but a small, curious package at his doorstep enveloped in bright orange wrapping paper. At first, he was confused, not remembering ever ordering anything online for the past month or so—other than the stargazing kit he'd received a little more than a week ago. Thinking the package might have been mistakenly put on his doorstep, Merlin promptly picked the parcel up and searched for a name other than his, but much to his surprise, there was none.

_It definitely isn't my birthday_, he thought to himself, frowning as he brought it into his flat and set it down on his coffee table. _Or even _Christmas_, for that matter.._. Merlin took a deep breath and began to unwrap the peculiar package, only to find that it was enclosed in layers and layers of wrapping paper.

Oh god, what if it was a _bomb_, sent by some sick psycho from heaven knows where?

Merlin gulped at the idea and very carefully lifted up both flaps. His expression instantly lit up though, when instead he saw none other than Gaius's little garden gnome covered in bubble wrap and snug in a plentiful amount of packing peanuts. Attached to the gnome's hat was a small piece of paper, and Merlin picked it up to see a note, written in messy but barely legible handwriting:

_Skype as soon as you get this creepy abomination back. –W_

He sighed, putting the note aside on the table and taking out Gaius's valuable possession. "Will," the young warlock fondly murmured to himself with a smile.

~o~

For a moment, the window on the screen was pitch-black, but after a few minutes, Merlin saw his best friend, wearing a smug, self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Well, did it work?" Will asked, looking back at him with an expectant gleam in his eyes.

Merlin laughed, ocean blue irises jumping with amusement. "Of course it did. He got the one you took in Cambodia a few days ago."

At this, Will broke into his own fit of laughter. "Well, it's only a matter of time before old Gaius finally gets my last one all the way from Egypt..."

Merlin giggled, leaning back against his wooden chair. "You're wonderful, all right? You couldn't have done any better."

Will gave a triumphant smile and nodded once. "But of course. Hey—did Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern make it back home over there in one piece?"

Merlin chuckled, then sighed, picking up the gnome and holding it in front of the screen. "Yes. He misses you very much."

Will rolls his eyes at him, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Haha—real funny, mate. You know I've got a serious fraction of the world thinking I'm _immensely_ weird and socially awkward now after I've been carrying that blasted thing around in their home countries taking bloody pictures of it?"

Merlin choked on the glass of water he'd presently been drinking, almost dropping the gnome as he put it back down on the floor next to him. "That's because you _are _immensely weird and socially awkward, Will," he laughed.

Will smirked a little, then slowly shook his head in mock disdain before he shunned Merlin by blocking the webcam with his palm.

~o~

After about another hour of staring at each other's faces through the small screen, the two were still talking to each other, mostly with Will telling Merlin all about his adventures in the many different countries he'd been able to visit so far. But eventually, it came to a point where Will heaved an exhausted sigh and started asking Merlin about what had presently been going on in his life.

"Meet anyone new recently while I've been all the way over here and gone?" he'd asked, curiously raising an eyebrow at the young warlock.

To this, Merlin couldn't help but grin as he remembered all the people he'd met even before Will had left—in addition to the countless interesting twists he'd ended up having in his life even up to now. _ Interesting twists,_ he began to think, _that had mostly involved _Arthur_._

Suddenly, Merlin was startled back to reality by the sound of Will snapping his fingers close to the screen. "Oi—Merlin! You still in there?"

Merlin cleared his throat and looked back at Will sheepishly with his mouth agape. "Sorry! Sorry, yes, I'm still here!" he blurted out of instinct.

Will only chuckled, slowly shaking his head with a fond expression on his face. "Still haven't changed, haven't you?" he sighed. "If your head's not up in the clouds..." He glanced pointedly over at the red book sitting on the table beside Merlin's elbow. "...it's always stuck in those damn books," he joked with a smirk.

Merlin followed Will's gaze then raised an eyebrow as he turned to look at his copy of Hipolito's latest novel. "This one's actually really good," The young warlock admitted with an honest tone to his voice. But when he looked back, all he saw was Will pretending to be interested, even scratching his chin to add some effect.

Merlin scoffed with mock offense and laughed at his best friend. "Will..." He sighed, picking the book up to looking at it for a moment. And that was when another idea unexpectedly came to his mind. "That reminds me," he added as an afterthought.

Will sat up straight in his chair now, eyeing him uneasily. "What?"

Merlin turned his chair back to the computer and bit his lower lip. "Well...I was wondering—"

"If it is another favour, Merlin, I swear I am going to come over there and knock you senseless," Will cut in. "And draw on your face with permanent ink as you sleep—the kind that doesn't come off for _weeks_."

In that instant, Merlin sputtered, breaking into a fit of laughter. "Oh god, no!" he exclaimed, then took a deep breath and pulled out a small scrap of paper from his pocket. He looked at it contemplatively, his eyes softening on the words written in black. "No, no more eccentric favours..."

Will watched him attentively, bringing his face closer to the screen to get a better look at the note his best friend was busy looking at.

Merlin closed his eyes, then spoke in a hushed murmur. "Without you, today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's," He swallowed hard, then looked back at Will only to see that he had a confused expression on his face.

"Er…sorry, come again?"

Merlin shrugged, glancing up from the paper to meet Will's perplexed gaze. "Oh—just something I read about a week ago...but I never really knew for sure what it meant." He frowned, his countenance pensive. "You don't think that—"

"Mate, I'm gonna have to stop you right there," Will cut in with a half-laugh. Merlin stared at him inquisitively.

Will exhaled sharply, scratching the back of his head with a tentative air about his mien. "Look..._Merlin_, you and I both know that philosophy—more or less, even classic English_ lit_—has never turned out to be anything for me." He pursed his lips, briefly darting his eyes over at the vast collection of books organised neatly on the shelf behind the little red book. "Not at all like they've both been for you at the very least. Why don't you ask someone, er..._brighter_ with these things—like Gaius, huh?"

At that, Merlin only had to frown and nod with understanding before looking down at his knees in disappointment.

Then suddenly, he heard a faint knocking at the door behind Will and whipped his head up in time to see his friend glare disapprovingly in the direction of his flat's threshold.

"_Shit_," Will hissed under his breath and groaned. "Fucking flatmate..." He sighed, shaking his head again before looking at Merlin once more. "Sorry, Merlin—looks like I've got to go."

Merlin snapped back to his senses again and sniffed. "Huh? Oh—that's all right," he muttered, glancing at the digital clock under the television at the other side of the room. "I've got to leave for work anyway. Taking the afternoon shift," he spoke with a reassuringly warm smile. "Nice talking to you."

Will nodded and had been about to reply when the knocking increasingly became more insistent. He took a deep breath and turning around to yell at the person standing at the other side of the door. "Dammit, Gareth! Can't you wait for just one _fucking _minute!?" Will exhaled sharply, turning back around to look at Merlin with a slightly more mentally stable expression. "Haha—alright, mate. Take care of yourself."

Merlin laughed, moving his mouse until it was hovering over the little 'x' at the top right corner of the window. "Good luck."

Will gave him a mock salute then logged off, the screen going dark once more.

At that moment, Merlin was now the one who sighed, leaning his elbows against the table and burying his face in his palms

_Oh _god.

~o~

At 12:45 p.m., Arthur made a triumphant sound as soon as he finished assembling the ripped up photo back at Isle Blessed. After what almost seemed like more than an hour, he was eventually able to make out the mysterious figure depicted in the image, the latter dressed in a black leather jacket and a baseball cap that concealed his eyes so he couldn't see the top half of his face. But Arthur was even more surprised when he saw that the man was holding a message scribbled on a small, torn piece of paper:

_Twin Dragons Café. Meet me there around 1:00._

Arthur glanced over at the clock across the room and frowned when he saw that it was already ten minutes to that specific time. Then, he called Morgana from the back, glancing over his shoulder.

"Morgana?"

"Yeah?" She called, stuffing a box of albums in the storage closet.

He hesitated for a moment, shifting his eyes from the clock to the photo of the mysterious figure. "…Can you take over for me in a few minutes?"

There was a muffled thud. "That'll be one coffee!" Morgana shouted back. "More than an hour, and it'll be _two!_"

Arthur sighed wearily, putting a hand to his forehead. "All right, all right, I love you, too," He drawled sarcastically, grabbing his stuff and stepping out the front door.

"Say hello to your boyfriend for me!" She called, emerging from the closet with an empty box in her hands and an amused smile plastered on her beaming expression.

In that instant, Arthur almost tripped on the front step and ended up slamming the door on his way out, so caught off guard by his sister's comment.

~o~

When Merlin walked in to work that afternoon, the first thing he noticed was the melancholic look on poor Gwen's face.

Gwaine sighed, glancing up at Merlin as the young warlock entered, standing for a moment next to the latter's table. Gwaine slowly shook his head, shrugging at him with an empathetic expression. "You know...she wasn't always like this," he remarked, not taking his eyes off Gwen as she rose to start wiping down the next table.

Merlin stiffened, then looked down at Gwaine with confused eyes. "Sorry?"

Gwaine frowned, uneasily meeting his gaze. "Well, Merlin, I've known Gwen a lot longer than you have, and…this actually hasn't been the first time she's been this sad over one person." He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "And _no, _it was _not _me," he chuckled, just as Merlin opened his mouth in surprise to say something in retort.

"Oh," The young warlock uttered flatly, shooting a sidelong glance towards Gwen as she walked past them to put the rag she was holding into the wash bin. "What happened?"

Gwaine shifted a little in his seat, then cleared his throat and sat up to put his hands flat on his knees. "From what I remember before...she already had someone special. Someone who she was always with. You know, that sort of..." He waved his hands in the air dismissively "Er..._thing_. Anyway, it'd be often that we'd see them joined at the hip around here. And then one day, just like that, well…he decided to go and leave her." He finished with a sombre tone to his voice. "Since then, she's never really been the same. Always looking over her shoulder, afraid to turn her back. Always staying low when she's around other people. Always conscious of how they think of her. _Look _at her." He glanced pointedly at Merlin. "Kind of like you, mate."

Merlin frowned, turning to look at Gwen again and empathetic as he knew all too well what it felt like to wander blindly through the dark, empty caverns of seclusion. He had done it for too many years not to understand Gwen's similar situation at that point.

Gwaine followed his gaze then shrugged. "I don't know, Merlin," he sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. "What should we do now?"

For a moment, Merlin was silent, his eyes softening as he watched Gwen lean against the front counter in despondence. "Maybe they just need one more push," he replied, his expression pensive.

Gwaine looked up, only to see Merlin take out a pen and a piece of scrap paper from his pocket and scribble swiftly on it before he walked over to sneak it into Gwen's purse the second she turned her back to make sure the coffee machine was working properly. When he came back, Gwaine could all but manage a triumphant grin.

"Good job there, mate."

Merlin smiled bashfully, then shifted his eyes towards the clock on the wall. His heart sank.

Arthur was late. At that point, Merlin could only think of two explanations. It was either one: he didn't get the photo, or two: before he could assemble it, a gang of rogue mafia men took him hostage, and when the cops gave chase, they got away…but then he caused the car to crash. And when he finally regained consciousness, he'd lost his memory. Then some ex-convict picked him up, mistook him for a fugitive, and shipped him to Istanbul, where he probably met some Afghan raiders who took him to steal some Russian warheads. But then their truck hit a mine in Tajikistan—or _worse_: he survived, took to the hills, and became a smelly, runaway hobo for the rest of his life—

Just as Merlin's wild imagination could go any further though, Arthur walked in through the café doors fifteen minutes late. He sat down at one of the tables on the far right side of the room, and Gwen promptly came over to take the blonde's order with a nonchalant expression on her face. Her voice was even as she spoke to Arthur, but she never met his gaze, only looking down at her notepad as she scribbled furiously with her ballpoint pen.

When she left Arthur to wait patiently for his black coffee, Merlin couldn't help but watch him closely from behind as he wrote the cafe's daily special on the glass window in chalk until a few minutes later when Gwen returned with a full, piping-hot mug.

The instant Arthur put down his spoon after he took a small sip from his drink, he already knew that he was being watched, especially when he dipped a finger into his mouth to lick the leftover sugar he had stuck all over his hand. He pursed his lips, then slowly turned around to catch Merlin staring at him, and it took _every_ bit of the young warlock's strength to close his watering mouth.

Arthur let out a sigh, looking up at Merlin as he calmly drew the reassembled photo of the mysterious stranger from his left pocket. "Is this you?" he asked in a cordial voice, showing him the image.

"Um..." At first, Merlin kept his gaze down, still too shy to meet the latter's shockingly blue eyes and still too afraid to speak a word to the blonde for fear that he would say words that would set him off on the wrong foot. After a few seconds though, he just barely managed to make a brief glance at the photo before quickly looking back down and wordlessly shaking his head no in response.

There was a pregnant silence, and Merlin's heart began to hammer in his chest, to the point where he eventually forced himself to turn around and walk away from Arthur. Then everything took a sharp and unexpected turn when Arthur suddenly got up from his seat and grabbed him by the wrist to cut his path short.

"I _know_ it's you," the blonde spoke with firm conviction.

Merlin stiffened under Arthur's grasp and inhaled sharply, flustered and completely caught off-guard. He could only swallow hard before closing his eyes and slowly shaking his head again as he felt the tingling warmth of Arthur's strong palm, a burning sensation flooding through his skin and causing his cheeks to flush a faint red. The last time Merlin had ever felt this, he'd been pinned to a set of train tracks with the blonde fully—_protectively_—leaning over his body just so he could save his life.

Even now, without turning around to look, he knew that Arthur was still not convinced, and he could feel the latter's sharp, fixed gaze boring through the back of his head. It was only when they realised that half the restaurant was staring at them that Arthur resignedly let go of his wrist and sat back down in his seat.

Merlin let out a small sigh, then reluctantly opened his eyes, as to what move he could possibly make next before all his efforts—all those things he'd done for this very moment—started plummeting downhill. From a sidelong glance, he spotted Gwen walking back from the kitchen with an empty tray and instinctively moved forward to approach her, fumbling in his pocket for his pen and another scrap of paper. Merlin tried hard not to hyperventilate as he scribbled frantically on the piece of parchment, then held it out to her with an anxious expression and furtively gestured to the blonde man who was sitting two seats away from them.

For a moment, Gwen hesitated, tentative when she saw Arthur slowly shaking his head to himself and cursing under his breath. After noticing the desperate look on Merlin's face though as he looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, she could only nod uncertainly. Her face was sympathetic when she took the note from Merlin, and she turned to make her way over to Arthur's table.

When Arthur had grudgingly returned to his seat, however, he hadn't been able to catch the surreptitious exchange between the two because he'd been too busy glaring at and then ignoring the people (including Gwaine, who'd been eyeing him suspiciously) who were still looking at him with awkward semblances. Just as Merlin had gone to talk to Gwen, Arthur pulled a face and turned around instead, burying his hands in his face with his elbows on the table.

_This is going to be harder than I thought, _he contemplated, letting out an exasperated sigh.

It was only when he heard his cup being lifted from the table that he put his palms down, raising his head just enough to catch a brief glimpse of Gwen's hands.

"More coffee?" she asked half-heartedly, placing his mug on her metal tray without looking at him.

Before Arthur could answer though, his wristwatch suddenly cut him off with a loud _beep_, marking the hour that had just passed.

_Shit. Morgana's going to kill me..._

Arthur only managed to briefly shake his head no before he quickly leaned over to grab his knapsack from beside him. Then he glanced over his shoulder to see Merlin helping another customer with his back still facing him. Arthur frowned, exhaling sharply as he shoved the reassembled photo back in his pocket.

_That's all right. I can come back tomorrow, _he thought hopefully. _I can always come back tomorrow..._

"No, that'll be fine," Arthur eventually replied, without looking at Gwen, in a tired but polite tone. "I really have to get going."

Just as he rose from his seat, Gwen hurriedly placed Merlin's note inside his pocket and turned on her heel to carry her tray back to the front counter before Arthur could notice. Knowing, Gwaine had seen the whole thing and watched her with a raised eyebrow and some incredulity as she passed by, although he couldn't bring himself to say a single word.

Meanwhile, Merlin turned around to see Arthur walk out the front door, and instantly his expression became crestfallen beyond belief. At that moment, Merlin's heart felt rock-heavy in his chest, and all he wanted to do was melt into a puddle right then and there and disappear.

~o~

The Glass Man had been painting the sky of his masterpiece when Merlin had come in late at night for an impromptu visit.

The young warlock nibbled on a crumpet and watched closely as The Glass Man dipped his brush into a pale, serene shade of blue then dragged it along the fabric with precision.

After a few minutes of silence, Merlin put his plate down on his lap and dug into his pocket to fish for the scrap of paper that he'd tried to show Will that morning-the same one where he'd written that peculiar quote from Hipolito's latest novel.

But for some _odd _reason...he couldn't find it.

As Merlin continued to fiddle around in his seat, Kil Gharrah closed his eyes and sighed. "_Without you, today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's_."

In that instant, Merlin whipped his head up, looking at him in surprise. The Glass Man gave him a wise grin, then turned to continue refining the white clouds that loomed over the depicted commuters in the town square. "It means that without love, any emotions that you would feel today would be forgotten like the ones you might have been enchanted with before," he continued, glancing at the young warlock with sad eyes. "Without love, life would be as dull and as boring as a canvas without paint."

Merlin frowned, forlornly looking down at his half-empty cup of tea.

The Glass Man put down his brush and opened his mouth again to speak again. "So that's the one, there, the guy who raises his hand?"

Merlin looked up to see The Glass Man pointing at a specific spot on his grand painting. Automatically thinking it was the glass boy he was referring to, the young warlock shifted closer to him, only to find a different person when he followed Kil Gharrah's gaze. It was another boy who was just within the glass boy's range of vision and wore a bright, affable expression on his smiling face. He was laughing with a petite brown-haired girl, standing on the other side of the crowd where most of the people are conversing.

At this, Merlin paused for an instant before nodding once with a half-hearted countenance. "Yes," he murmured softly.

The Glass Man pursed his lips, then raised his hand to scratch his chin contemplatively as he glanced briefly at the boy with the glass.

"Is he in love with him?" he asked, eyebrows raised with intrigue.

Merlin hesitated, timidly lowering his eyes. "Yes," he muttered after a moment.

The Glass Man's only reply was a tired sigh before there was another pregnant pause. "Then the time has come for him to take some real risks," he spoke in an even tone.

Merlin cleared his throat and felt his ears start to flush red. "Well, er…yes, he's actually thinking about it. He's thinking of a stratagem."

Kil Gharrah only nodded, still gazing at the same boy in his painting. "Yes, he likes stratagems, doesn't he?"

Merlin closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. "Yes."

"Hmm…"

The young warlock swallowed hard, then looked up to see The Glass Man continue to muse over the boy with the glass. "He's a bit of a coward," Kil Gharrah eventually remarked, glancing over at Merlin, who didn't even dare to look up. The elderly man sighed, getting up from his seat with a weary expression on his face. "That's why I have trouble with his eyes," he finished before leaning over to take Merlin's empty plate back to the kitchen sink.

As soon as he was out of sight, however, Merlin couldn't help but frown, staring meaningfully at the introverted boy in The Glass Man's painting and then focusing his gaze on the smiling boy standing at the other end of the crowd. Immediately, images of Arthur's face came forth from the corners of his mind, and his wrist burned as he remembered how the blonde had held his hand at Twin Dragons.

As if he were something precious but fleeting at the same time—like if he let go for the slightest second, he would forever lose it to the scattered winds.

Merlin clenched his fists on his lap, his eyes intent on the beaming boy.

_Tomorrow, I won't be_, he thought to himself.

~o~

That night, Merlin drifted off into a fitful sleep.

It hadn't been long before he found himself sitting alone in the corner of an empty room, filled with nothing but soft moonlight. For some inexplicable reason, his throat was burning, and his cheeks were stained with hot, bitter tears. He could feel his body tremble with each racking sob that slipped from the corners of his mouth.

His heart felt excruciatingly empty, and all Merlin wanted to do was die. He swallowed hard, curling up into himself on the stone cold floor.

Then he stiffened when he thought he heard the sound of faint footsteps and a choked whisper from the other side of the room:

"_Merlin?"_

Instantly, Merlin sucked in a gulp of air, lifting his head up at the slightest to catch the blurred image of a blonde man standing before him, dressed in sleek chainmail that shimmered brilliantly under the low light. The young warlock's eyes widened, and without even thinking, he reached up to wrap his arms around the knight, who'd already caught him in a warm, fervent embrace.

"_I thought I'd never see you again,"_ the blonde sighed, leaning his forehead against Merlin's cheek.

Merlin chuckled, nuzzling into the blonde's shoulder. _"I...I missed you."_ He could practically feel the smile on the other's face as he lifted a gloved hand to wipe away any lingering tears.

For the first time in what felt like over a thousand years, Merlin felt euphoric to feel this familiar man alive and well in his arms.

However, in the blink of an eye, things started to go very,_ very_ wrong.

When Merlin pulled away, he was shocked to realise the blonde was drenched to the bone, water dripping all over the floor beneath them. Still unable to see his face, Merlin reached up to touch the blonde's cheek with a concerned expression on his face.

"_A—"_ Merlin uttered, his breath hitching as the name caught between his lips. He looked up at the knight, eyes wide with fear, as his voice faltered into a hushed, shaky murmur. _"Why are you all wet?"_

Suddenly, the room grew deathly silent. Then the blonde stiffened, letting out a loud cry of pain and sinking under Merlin's hold. Merlin's stomach lurched as he leaned down to cradle the knight's head and became mortified when he saw the puddle under them begin to grow dramatically as if it were a pool of blood.

Either way, it _was _as if the blonde was losing blood because in a split second, his skin was losing colour and was becoming as icy as the floor. Merlin was doing all he could not to break down in front of him. However, that was when the sickening thought finally came to the young warlock:

The blonde was the water—or better yet, slowly he was turning _into_ the water.

"_Just hold me," _he croaked, his voice pained as he gave a violent cough. _"Please."_

At that point, Merlin was weeping defeatedly, and the other weakly raised a hand to cup the young warlock's chin. Merlin leaned into his touch, and the knight gave a laboured gasp.

"_Merlin," _he whispered hoarsely, struggling as much as he could to maintain consciousness. He exhaled sharply and shivered, not taking his eyes off Merlin's. _"Merlin...it's time. I have to go," _he managed to choke out. _"You have to let me go."_

The drops that dripped from the blonde's chainmail gradually turned into streams, and Merlin wailed, holding him close to his broken heart. _"No,"_ Merlin sobbed. _"Please, no. I can't. I don't want to let you go..."_

But no matter how much he tried to cling on to his beloved blonde, the puddle only grew larger, and it was only a matter of time before Merlin found himself staring at nothing but the wet palms of his trembling hands. Soon, the water soaking his knees became an ominous black, and the young warlock gasped, whipping his head up to see that he was back in his own flat.

Beads of sweat lingered on Merlin's forehead as he looked down at his hands dazedly. Then he heard a meow from below and glanced past his fingers to see Aithusa blinking curiously at him on his lap.

~o~

After managing to persuade Gwen into switching afternoon shifts with him on the excuse that he wasn't feeling so well the next morning, Merlin was able to drag himself to Grand Albion Station, which thankfully, wasn't as full of working commuters on a Sunday as it had been during weekdays.

But Merlin still looked around, fiddling with a paper clip that he had loosened with his long, bare fingers before lodging it stuck in the coin slot of the photo booth. Then he moved swiftly towards the pay phone and dialled a certain number, letting it ring until he'd heard a click on the other line.

"_Hello? What seems to be the problem?" _a nonchalant but professional voice spoke.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder, then leaned back against the brick wall. "The machine's out of order," he replied in a supposedly concerned voice. "I think there's something stuck."

~o~

"Here's your change," Arthur spoke, cordially handing his present customer her purchase before glancing over at the clock at the other side of the room.

_Ten minutes to 3:00_, he thought tiredly to himself.

He heaved a sigh, then turned to call his younger sister, who'd gone into the back to help Morgause organise the shelves of numerous records in the stock closet.

"Morgana?"

But there was only silence, and the shop was filled with nothing but the ambience of faint Beatles music.

He exhaled sharply, leaving the counter to search for either one of them. It wasn't long, though, before eventually he'd heard Morgana laughing from behind the faded green door leading into the walk-in closet, and for some reason, when Arthur had reached for the doorknob, he'd found it locked tight. He frowned, tapping on the small window and calling her name again.

"Morgana? Dammit—_Morgana_, would you open the fucking door!?"

But it was no use—she couldn't hear a single word he was saying, and still there was no answer.

Arthur swore under his breath, then took out a scrap of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and pressing it next to the small door window. He fumbled for a pen, hurriedly scribbling a message for Morgana, and flipped the note over to press it firmly against the window glass. Again, Arthur tried to get her attention by knocking, but that was when he saw another message written on the other side of the note and sucked in a gulp of air.

_Without you, today's tomorrow would be the scurf of yesterday's, _it said in messy chicken scratch handwriting, and Arthur's eyes widened as he read the next few lines:

_Be at the photo machine at 4:30. –M_

Arthur blinked twice, pulling the note off the window to make sure he was reading it correctly. Then at the same time, it finally occurred to him that all of a sudden it had gotten gravely quiet. At that, Arthur stiffened, glancing over to peer through the glass with the intention of checking to see if his sister was all right.

What he saw next, though, was too much for his eyes to bear and his brain to retain without giving him possible post-traumatic stress and blindness.

"Good _god,_"he gasped hoarsely to himself, gaping with a startled expression as he saw Morgana and Morgause staring at him with wide, horrified eyes, their surprisingly half-naked bodies positioned in a very _interesting _position. Immediately, he found himself shielding his eyes with one hand and stumbling away from the door before he scampered off, trying desperately to erase the graphic image from his poor, innocent little mind.

~o~

Meanwhile on the local streets, Gwen was walking back to Twin Dragons to take over for Merlin during what had been supposed to be his evening shift. At the same time, however, she couldn't stop thinking about the blonde who'd walked into the café that past afternoon.

The one who Merlin had so anxiously asked her to give a certain note to.

The very same man who'd once been both the peanut butter to her jelly...

…and then, after a civil disagreement, had broken her heart all those years ago.

At that moment, images of Arthur began to flood her imagination, memories of the two of them laughing at each other's jokes, eating ice cream, and singing terrible songs at the beach just as they'd watch the sun set in the vast orange-sapphire horizon. But then she hurriedly shook them out of her mind and closed her eyes before biting down on her bottom lip.

_That was an old chapter, Guinevere, _she thought desolately and sighed, looking down to make a cursory glance over her purse to make sure that she hadn't forgotten her wallet or flat keys. However, when she'd opened her bag, she was surprised to find a peculiar piece of beige parchment folded over her ID. At that moment, Gwen held her breath, as she turned it over to read the written note once, and then twice:

_Meet me at the grocer's at 5:45._

She stopped at the intersection, absent-mindedly pressing this crossing button next to her. But as soon as she lifted her head up to see if the sign had changed to "Go," she'd already caught a glimpse of the produce stand from the corner of her eye and turned to find it surprisingly unattended. Lance might have gone for a bathroom break.

Gwen stood there for an instant, torn as to whether or not she should reply to the unexpected message, then promptly found herself ripping off the bottom blank half of the note and scribbling furiously on it with a ballpoint pen. She crossed left on the other street instead and made her way towards the grocer's stand, swiftly slipping the new note in a box of cherries.

~o~

When Arthur arrived at the photo booth two minutes before 4:30, he was confused when he'd found no one there waiting for his presence. He looked around, shrugging disappointedly with a sigh, then crouched down to search for new ripped up photos that he could possibly put together in the meantime. He thought he might as well anyway since he was already in front of the photo machine.

What Arthur _didn't_ know though, was that the man who'd been anticipating him all along was actually watching him from a distance, hidden around the nearest corner. Merlin swallowed hard, then nervously shifted his gaze in the opposite direction to see the _other_ expected guest of the occasion approaching the blonde from the entrance of the station.

It was only seconds before the mystery man of the photo album was standing quietly behind Arthur's crouched form, and the blonde noticed, climbing back out to dust his pants off.

"Just a second," Arthur began in a concise but polite voice. "I'm almost finished—" He stopped mid-sentence, however, when he finally looked up to meet emotionless, pale blue eyes.

Arthur immediately rose to his feet, gaping at the young boy with an incredulous, astonished expression on his face. "You…" he murmured in a choked whisper.

Mordred only stared and blinked, not sure how to respond to the blonde's reaction at first. But then he managed to force an awkward smile and shrugged, stepping aside to enter the photo booth.

"Excuse me," the boy uttered, moving past Arthur, who'd still been gawking at him with disbelief.

Merlin let out a sharp exhale, looking away from them with his back flat against the wall.

The mystery man of the photo machine, otherwise known by the name of Mordred, was not somebody obsessed with a fear of aging after all, but a repairman. No one but a newly hired technician—and a genius for his very young age—who had just been doing his job and that was all. The numerous photos had only been tests to ensure that the camera was properly working.

Merlin closed his eyes and slowly shook his head from side to side. _All right, Merlin, _he thought decidedly to himself._ This is it. Now's your chance to finally show your face. _He took another deep breath and then was just about to come out of his hiding place, when something terrible from within suddenly stopped him dead in his tracks.

For a moment, he realised he was trembling, unable to move a single muscle. _What if he doesn't like you? _A chilling voice resounded from the back of his mind. _Especially after he finds out what you _really_ are?_

In that instant, Merlin sucked in a gulp of air and swallowed hard, remembering the hurtful things The Glass Man had told him in their last meeting. The young warlock bit his lower lip and sighed, slumping against the stone wall.

_You are not a coward, Emrys._

Repeating those words over and over again in his mind, Merlin dashed out from behind the corner, but only to have his vision blocked by a small shuttle that was carrying a chain of train baggage. For a while, it travelled in the wide space that lay between Merlin and Arthur, and Merlin was forced to stop short as he waited patiently for the shuttle to pass, the vibrant colours of the boxes merging together into one, very interesting sort of spectrum.

As soon as the photo machine came back into view though, Merlin's heart dropped when he found that the person he'd been waiting for so long was no longer standing there in his midst. He frowned, turning to leave Grand Albion Station with a crestfallen countenance.

But that was when he heard a scuffle from behind him and froze. Without looking back, Merlin knew that Mordred was now standing outside the photo booth, waiting for him.

"All fixed," Mordred murmured stoically, pulling the curtain closed.

Merlin didn't respond.

There was a long pause, and Mordred frowned, his gaze curious and soft on him. Then he turned the twisted paper clip in his hand and let out a small sigh. "I know that you used your gifts to save his life during our last encounter," he began carefully in a hushed voice. "Without a doubt, you are indeed the best sorcerer to ever set foot on this planet. I feel honoured to have met someone as great as you."

Merlin closed his eyes, then hung his head and opened his mouth to speak in a barely audible whisper. "What makes you say that?"

Another pregnant silence.

"You don't openly hide your magic from the mortals as much as we all do," The other replied with conviction. "In fact, you even go and give them a chance. You are right in your judgment."

Merlin exhaled as he heard the jingle of the boy's tool box being picked up from the floor. He watched as Mordred came forth, stepping past him until he was glancing over at Merlin with a fond expression on his face.

"The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield," Mordred murmured, smiling slightly at him. "Even though we tend to go unmarked in death as in life."

Merlin's breath hitched when he saw his irises start to glow a brilliant gold. They were different from those of the ones he'd seen before, including Edwin's and The Glass Man's; though they might have seemed just as powerful, they held an innocent, childlike feature that Merlin had always tended to have when he'd first learned how to use his gifts. He nodded, acknowledging the young Druid with a tentative grin as they looked at each other with a unique understanding that brought them both comfort for the briefest second.

"I hope you'll find your way," Mordred spoke. Then he was gone, and Merlin was alone in the empty corridor of Grand Albion Station.

~o~

Gwen had been sweeping the front entrance and was just about to open the door to the cafe for the next customer when suddenly a painfully familiar voice acknowledged her from over her shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

Gwen stiffened at that moment, her breath hitching, and it took all of her strength not to turn around to face the blonde man waiting patiently behind her.

There was a brief silence, then Arthur held out what she only knew to be Merlin's note. "Is this yours?" he asked, looking at her with a hopeful expression on his face.

Gwen sighed and glanced over just enough to see the slip of paper. She sniffed, clearing her throat before she opened her mouth to speak in a nonchalant, professional tone. "Yes," she replied, curling her fingers around the door handle. "But it's not me who—"

Before she could finish though, Arthur held up a hand to stop her. "I know it's not you," he began genially. "But I was just wondering if you're possibly familiar with the person who is." He paused, glancing down at the note then back at her. "I was wondering if—if you knew where I could find him by any chance," he murmured, his voice genuine and imploring.

At this, Gwen's expression grew solemn; she sighed and slowly shook her head. "For some reason, he called me late last night telling me he wasn't feeling well," she spoke, feeling Arthur's sad gaze boring into the back of her head. She swallowed hard, taking another deep breath as she continued in that same detached tone. "I'd like to talk to you actually," she managed, biting her bottom lip. "If that's all right..." She paused, turning carefully to meet sombre cerulean eyes that widened the second he fully saw the face of his former girlfriend. "...Arthur."

Arthur froze for a moment, looking at her with a pained expression, then frowned. "Guinevere," He uttered, just above a hushed whisper. He shifted uneasily, glancing down at his feet then back at Gwen's anticipating gaze, and Arthur winced as memories of from their past illuminated his mind at the speed of light.

But the only response he could give in that instant was a small shrug after clearing his throat. "I don't see why not," he muttered hoarsely.

Gwen closed her eyes, then turned to open the door to the café. "Okay," she replied with an even voice. "Wait for me out here for a second. I just need to tell Elena and Vivian to take over for me while I'm gone," She sighed, glancing over her shoulder to look at Arthur, who'd given her a tentative nod and watched as she stepped back inside.

When they finally _did_ leave together to talk, however, they failed to notice how the two blonde waitresses, Elena and Vivian, and even Gwaine, for that matter, had been watching them the whole time from the café window with shocked expressions on their faces.


	9. Chapter 8

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::*~_Chapter Eight_~*.::.

On his way back from the train station, Merlin decided that it would be sensible to check on Gwen back at Twin Dragons to see if he could take the rest of the afternoon shift that he'd originally been assigned. After all, it already hadn't been fair to her since she'd supposed to have the day off in the first place—even _if_ she'd agreed without any problem whatsoever—and since Merlin hadn't had anything more in particular to be doing, he figured it was only right to take the responsibility off her possibly tired hands.

_Unless everything had gone well according to plan,_ he added as an afterthought, glancing down at his wristwatch to see it was 5:20.

Just as Merlin walked in though, he was surprised to hear angry shouts and screams before he looked up to see Gwaine and Vivian squabbling with each other red-faced at the front counter, while poor Elena, on the other hand, was trying fruitlessly to calm them both down, and she looked ready to burst into tears.

Merlin frowned, taking a step closer towards the three with raised eyebrows. "What's going on here?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

In that instant, they all turned around at the same time, and Vivian looked at him up and down with an expression that made her seem half-drunk—and Merlin was shocked to find that she was indeed, without a _doubt_, near the point of intoxication. "Ah," she sighed dazedly, nodding once to him in acknowledgement. "So the clueless _half-wit_ decides to show up after all," she chuckled dryly.

Merlin blinked, at first seeming confused and then annoyed. "…sorry?" he managed to reply, slightly tilting his head to the side.

Gwaine immediately cleared his throat and looked like he was about to say something to put the young warlock at ease, but Vivian laughed, gazing at Merlin with an obnoxious, condescending look on her face. "Well, there you are!" she crowed, slapping her hand on the counter as if everything seemed as a joke at that moment. "5:00 p.m.! The trap is set!"

Merlin frowned, shifting his gaze towards Gwaine with a lost expression on his face. In a split second, his stomach churned when he noticed the seriousness hidden in the latter's eyes. "Gwaine," he began uneasily. "What happened?" Merlin looked around, even more surprised to see that the only rhyme and reason of Twin Dragons wasn't present. "Wait—where's Gwen? She was supposed to take over for me while I was gone." His breath hitched as all the possibilities suddenly flooded into his mind like the most atrocious storm, and Merlin's head began to throb.

Gwaine took a deep breath and sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Er...she took some stranger out for a walk, mate," He murmured but for some reason, refused to meet Merlin's gaze.

Merlin swallowed hard, slowly shaking his head at him. "A walk?" he asked, desperately trying to make of what was going on. He looked at the two girls then back at Gwaine, shrugging. "What? Did Lance come by while I was gone?"

Vivian broke into a fit of raucous laughter. "Really—you've got to be kidding me. You _really _are an idiot, aren't you?" She glanced at Elena and grinned. "Isn't he, Elena? Isn't Merlin a stupid little prick who doesn't know where he should and shouldn't be sticking his pathetic nose into?"

Merlin's countenance grew more anxious by the second, but never did he take his eyes off Gwaine, who was presently twiddling his thumbs in abandon.

"Gwaine?" he asked one more time, just above a hushed whisper.

But Gwaine only closed his eyes and hesitated for a moment before he sighed and slowly shook his head no with a withered look on his face.

At that, Merlin gulped. "Who did she go with?"

Vivian cackled, lifting her half-full glass of red wine up into the air. "Why, her fucking _hot_ ex, that's who!"

Merlin froze, his legs almost wobbling. His vision was growing inexplicably blurry, and he wanted to throw up. _Oh, no. _He turned to see Gwaine suddenly get up from his seat, trying to shut Vivian up by covering her mouth with his hands.

"Gwaine, is this true?" Merlin blurted, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit.

Gwaine suddenly looked up, caught off-guard and not at all sure how to answer his question. But that was when Elena, of all people, bit her bottom lip with a tentative expression on her face and started to speak in a soft voice.

"Yes—it's true," She replied, and Merlin quickly shifted his gaze over to her. He noticed the way Gwaine gave her a disapproving look, shaking his head no in response, but Elena ignored him, taking a deep breath.

"He has to know what's been going on," She uttered quietly to Gwaine. "We have to tell him—otherwise it'll just come out worse."

Merlin's breath hitched in his throat. "What'll be worse?" he croaked.

All of a sudden, the room grew deathly silent.

Then, Elena sighed before meeting Merlin's gaze. "Just earlier," She began, her countenance unreadable. "We saw her leave with some other bloke. Blonde hair. Eyes as blue as yours." She pursed her lips, her voice faltering as she looked at Merlin with tears in her eyes. "It was the same one we saw you talking to the other day," she choked out, her voice breaking into a sob. "The one who wouldn't leave you alone."

The instant Merlin heard those last few words, he stiffened, as if the whole world stopped turning for the slightest second; as if he'd just been slapped hard across the face; as if his heart had been smashed into a million pieces and stuffed into the smallest box. He staggered, lifting a hand to grab one of the nearby tables.

Gwaine winced, instinctively getting up from his seat to help the young warlock, but then Vivian crowed again, laughing hysterically at Merlin with a flushed semblance. "First the little note in the pocket from the other afternoon! Then the man comes back and there you go!"

At that moment, Merlin's expression grew pale. "What are you talking about?" he asked hoarsely without looking at any of the three.

Vivian put her drink down and gave him an exasperated sigh. "Don't even _try _to deny your love for him, boy. We saw you that last time going goo-goo eyes for him behind his back. We've _all _done that, though at least nothing's actually _happened_ between the two of you yet...unlike me." She scoffed, taking another sip. "I was the fourth after her, right, Elena? What did that make you then—the sixth? But he slipped you a different note before, didn't he?"

Suddenly, Elena grimaced and wailed. Vivian exhaled, tears forming under her own eyelids. "He might as well have shoved her heart in the garbage disposal after he broke it. And me? Oh, he dumped me back then before I could even tell him how much I loved him," she chuckled ruefully, raising an eyebrow at Merlin. "Really a shame, what with his flawlessly handsome looks and all...but as they say, the first love truly is the _sweetest_," she gritted between her teeth, acid dripping in her tone.

Merlin's heart was now in his throat, and coughed, his chest strangely going tight. It wasn't long before Merlin realised that it was as if he was having trouble breathing and stepped back, holding back a sob.

Concerned, Gwaine came forth, eyes filled with apprehension. "Merlin."

But Merlin shook his head vigorously before he stumbled out the front door and bolted.

Gwaine inhaled sharply, burying his face in his palms, and then turned to glare at the two girls. "_Dammit_," he muttered under his breath and left to follow after the young warlock.

"Merlin!"

~o~

Arthur shot Gwen a sidelong glance as they strolled down the sidewalk together, side by side. Gwen, on the other hand though, could not bring herself to meet his gaze and kept her head down as she spoke.

Their conversation had been about an hour long and mainly consisted of the two explaining to one another how the years after the end of their relationship at first hadn't been so kind to them but how at some point, they'd both eventually managed to move on with their own lives. Arthur, who'd still felt guilty up to that point, could have and _would_ have done something to make everything right again if he'd been given another chance.

Had it not been for the fact that Guinevere...just wasn't the right person.

Wasn't the one person that he could always hold so close to the very core of his heart and not have any worries whatsoever. To Arthur, he'd only felt nothing but warm friendship for her—nothing more, nothing less. But even now, he still had his regrets, especially when he'd let go of someone who'd been so loyal to him to the very end and had such a good heart.

Arthur took a deep breath, then opened his mouth to speak again, wincing. "Guinevere…"

Gwen slowly shook her head at him, waving her hand dismissively. But Arthur knew her heart was still as heavy as it was on the day they'd both finally parted ways. "It's all in the past now, Arthur," she murmured quietly. "What happened back then...is no longer a matter that should concern me." They stopped at the intersection, and she gave a weary sigh. "Besides, we're talking about _him _now," she continued, looking at Arthur with solemn eyes. "We're talking about _Merlin._"

In that instant, Arthur inhaled sharply, the name resounding through his ears as if it were the most pleasant birdsong he'd ever heard. He paused, remembering a moment in his childhood when Uther had been dragging him away at the train station but at the same time he'd still managed to hear the same name being called from afar—the very name of the boy he had saved so long ago.

And the one he was looking for even to that point, his imagination flooding with images of a rosy-cheeked face flushed with a smile that Arthur wanted to spend his whole life answering.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed, swallowing hard and meeting Gwen's intense, meaningful gaze. He could see the pain of the past four years hidden in her fond, chocolate-brown eyes.

"I just hope that this time...you've finally found what you've been looking for all along," she sighed, turning to walk away from him.

Arthur frowned, closing his eyes and clearing his throat. "Without you, today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's," he spoke in a calm, even tone.

Gwen's breath hitched, and suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks with a stunned expression on her face.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked up at her with a warm gaze. "He wrote that on the back of his last note."

There was a long silence, the two of them standing motionlessly under the evening sky.

"He's a good kid," She finally replied, her tone affectionate. "But _please_—be careful with his heart," She bit her bottom lip, then glanced down at her feet with an uneasy expression on her face. "Despite how large it can be at times, it is also very fragile. I just don't want to see him get hurt." She turned around to meet Arthur's eyes, which softened with understanding.

Gwen stepped closer to him, her gaze steadfast on his. "I've known him for more than a few years since he moved here—as if he were a brother to me. And he deserves a lot better than what he gets now." Her voice faltered, and she looked away, giving a sharp exhale. "I trust you'll be the one to take care of him and finally makes him happy for all that he's worth." She gestured to the adjacent street and glanced at Arthur. "He lives on the second floor on the right in that building up ahead," she murmured softly. Then she paused, turning around to leave. "Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon. It was nice seeing you again."

Arthur frowned, looking at Gwen with a wounded, puppy-dog expression on his face.

Just as Gwen was about to step off the sidewalk, she was surprised to find warm, strong arms being wrapped around her waist. "I'm sorry, Guinevere," Arthur sighed into her hair, and she closed her eyes, sucking in a gulp of air.

"You know...we _are_ still friends," she chuckled, placing her hands over his fingers in comfort.

Arthur grinned, pulling back to look into her kind eyes. "Where will you go?" he asked, fondly tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear.

Gwen laughed, reaching over to mess up his soft, blonde mop of fluff. "Like you, I've already found another fish in the sea. There's already someone precious I have to meet with in a few minutes. Someone special who's always been waiting for me from afar."

She stepped away from Arthur, calmly taking his hands off her shoulders and holding them in her palms for a brief second. But soon, a rumble emanated through the air, and both looked up to see the sky strangely full of dark clouds. "It's about to rain," Gwen sighed, putting his hands down and looking straight into his eyes. "You should get somewhere dry," she chuckled, looking at Arthur with a sad smile. "Good luck."

And with that, Gwen turned to make her way down the other street.

Arthur frowned as he watched her gradually disappear from sight. But not long after, all he could see at the back of his mind was the boy he saved so many years ago, and with that, he turned, making his way down the next street with a small, contented grin on his face.

~o~

By the time Merlin had finally made it back to his flat, it was already raining cats and dogs, and the young warlock rushed headlong, soaking wet and shivering, to the front steps of his building. He blinked back his tears, pushing the door open and stumbling into the foyer. However, just as he was about to take one step towards the spiral staircase leading to his flat, he was stopped by Lancelot, who greeted him as he came out of his own room with a wide, genuine smile on his face.

"Hey, Merlin!" Lance laughed, beaming at Merlin from afar.

Merlin stiffened, then closed his eyes and heaved an exhausted sigh. "Hey, Lance," he managed, sniffling.

Judging from his tone, it seemed that he'd been told about the note Merlin gave to Gwen the other morning, but at that moment, Merlin could only feel terribly sorry for Lance because of what he'd found out in recent news. And it hurt him even more when the latter laughed, taking a step towards him.

"Oh, mate...do you believe in miracles?" Lance asked, his tone expectant and eager.

Merlin just barely managed to hold back a sob, then swallowed hard and tried as much as he could to compose himself. "Not today," he replied glumly. It was only then that he felt a twinge of pain at the bottom of his heart and bolted, quickly making his way up the stairs without looking back at Lance even once. And by the time he got back into his flat, he slammed the door shut and slid down on the floor, hugging his knees.

Heartbroken beyond belief, he threw his satchel across the room and let out a cry of frustration as he curled up into a ball and buried his face into his arms, folded on top of his knees. He took a deep breath then let out a ragged wail and trembled the same time that hot tears started to roll down his flushed cheeks.

Merlin swallowed and exhaled sharply. It was always like this. Since he'd been a child, he'd always tried his best to reach out to any person he'd happened to meet in the hopes of getting to know them and possibly making the new friends he would never be able to make at home instead of school, but only to find his attempts to no avail.

Even with his parents, when they'd been so close to him—more than he'd ever imagined—before he'd suddenly lost them and was left with nothing but sheer emptiness in his broken heart.

But this time, Merlin had never felt more hurt—betrayed by his own feelings. Why couldn't he ever keep the people he loved most?

He sniffled, vivid memories of the storm that ravaged Ealdor flooding through his imagination. As if it had only happened yesterday.

For Merlin remembered the bloodcurdling screams, the house shaking, the unshakable, unforgivable trauma…

He remembered _everything._

"_Mummy, daddy, where are you! I'm scared!"_ the terrified voice of his former five-year-old self echoed in the corners of his mind, as dark as his home had been on the day of the catastrophe.

Merlin sobbed into his arms, hugging himself and rocking back and forth as the pain and fear he'd felt so long ago slowly began to creep back with a vengeance. But then another flurry of memories started to fill his head—dreams that he never remembered ever having, but at the same time felt so, _so_ real. At first, he was battered and broken, lying by a blazing fire in darkness as long-lived, bittersweet nothing slowly overtook his shattered heart. He was fading by the second, feeling the heroin flow through his veins and watching fireworks fly up high in the dead of night. In the next moment, however, he found himself sitting in the middle of a forest clearing, wailing over a dying friend who he cradled in his arms and leaning their foreheads together.

"_Arthur!" _the young warlock's voice resounded, distraught and afraid.

At this point, the winds were howling dangerously outside and lightning tore through the menacing sky. Merlin's eyes flashed an angry, blinding gold, like flaming meteors threatening to obliterate anything that stood in its path. It was as if the storm increasingly worsened with his feelings, yet he was so overcome by his emotions that he failed to realise that his magic was unconsciously, after multiple years, coming undone once again.

At the same time from the corner of his eye, Merlin thought he could see a chain mail-clad arm, cold and dripping wet, reaching over to place soothing fingers over the top of his wrist. Then suddenly, the hand disappeared into a pile of fleeting ash, and there was an insistent knock on the door.

Just like that, it was as if the whole world stood still.

"Merlin?"

~o~

Merlin gasped, whipping his head up, his eyes turning back to their mild, innocent blue colour. All of a sudden, the raging squalls outside subsided.

Without a doubt, he knew who that voice particularly belonged to. It was none other than that of Arthur himself, who'd presently been calling desperately for the young warlock to open the door.

Too scared to allow the blonde in though, Merlin only let him knock, curling in on his knees as he listened to Arthur continue begging him to let him in. Merlin struggled hard to stifle his shuddering sobs but failed when he realised that he could hear his own hiccups. The room abruptly grew quiet, a sign that made it evident that Arthur could hear them, clear as rain, from the other side of the threshold.

In an instant, Arthur's voice grew soft and concerned, as if he were speaking to a child who'd just hurt himself running on the playground.

"Merlin," he murmured, his voice quiet and frantic as he leaned close to the faded green wood. "Merlin, are you all right? Please—open up."

But Merlin sat still and swallowed hard, waiting silently until he heard Arthur shift his feet from behind the door.

"I'll be right back," he heard the blonde mutter, then gulped and slumped back against the red interior wood. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the room grew quiet once more.

That is, until the phone abruptly started ringing from the other side of Merlin's flat.

At first, Merlin hesitated, wondering if he was sane enough to answer the call. In the end, he did, getting up slowly to his feet before walking over to reluctantly pick the phone up from the receiver and clearing his throat. "Hello?" he managed to croak.

"Turn the television on, young warlock," The Glass Man spoke on the other line and then hung up, the dial tone resonating through Merlin's ears.

Confused, Merlin turned, tentatively reaching for the remote to press the power button so that the TV screen was illuminated with Kil Gharrah's shrewd face and golden, glowing irises.

Merlin gasped, dropping the remote on the couch next to him. "You're—you're using _magic_," he choked, mouth gaping with astonishment, "just to _talk_ to me from your room?"

The Glass Man frowned, slowly shaking his head at him. "Never mind that, boy," he sighed. "You must go after Arthur this instant. It is your destiny."

Merlin gulped, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. "It's not meant to _be_," he choked, another tear streaming down his cheek. "It wouldn't be right. I—_no_—"

But Kil Gharrah only exhaled sharply, looking at him with a steadfast gaze and a serious expression on his face. "Young warlock," he began gravely. "You will listen to me now, and listen well."

Merlin frowned, blinking back tears.

The Glass Man paused for a moment, then continued in a calmer, sympathetic voice. "There is no right or wrong in this land. Only what is and what isn't. Your bones are not made of glass, Merlin. It may be in your nature to be so gentle, but unlike me, you can throw yourself full against the rigorous challenges that life brings us every day. You have shown me that hidden strength since the moment we first met." He shifted closer to the screen, his expression softening as he spoke. "I only ask that you heed my words…when I say that if you let this chance pass, then with time, it is your _heart_ that will become as dry and brittle as my skeleton. For yours and for Albion's sake, go now before it is all is too late!"

Taken aback by the powerful edge in Kil Gharrah's last few words, Merlin was forced to nod with an intense gaze. Then suddenly he was distracted by a cry that came from just outside the building. Startled, he glanced out the window, only to see that Lance was outside with none other than Gwen, who was giggling as she enveloped him in a warm embrace.

In that instant, Merlin couldn't help but smile as he noticed how genuinely happy the two of them looked with each other, but not long after, his breath hitched as he realised how very wrong he'd seen the whole situation—not just him but Gwaine, Elena, and Vivian as well. They'd all been led into a complete and utter misunderstanding, which Merlin now realised was appallingly silly.

It was more than clear that Gwen never intended of getting back together with Arthur, and neither had Arthur for that matter. He'd only wanted to know…

"Shit,"Merlin hissed under his breath, immediately turning on his heel to run towards the door. Without a moment's hesitation, he yanked it open, only to see the blonde standing there wide-eyed, holding a large ring of keys—the master set that could open any door in his building.

_He must have gone to get the keys from Lance and told him what had been going on._ Merlin froze, gaping at him like a deer in headlights with tears still streaming down his cheeks.

Before the young warlock could think any further though, the next few seconds passed so quickly but so slowly at the same time, as if everything was engulfed in honey. Startled and completely taken off-guard, he took a step back, but in the next instant, Merlin found himself slipping in his socks because the floor was so wet, and lost his balance, his arms flailing in all directions. Gradually, he started to fall back, eyes wide with panic, and for once in so many years, Merlin felt helpless.

He inhaled sharply, reflexively freezing time with a wordless spell in the hopes of preventing a nasty impact with the hardwood floor. But that was when, in the last split second, he suddenly felt strong hands wrapping firmly and protectively around his waist, and soon, Merlin was suspended in mid-air, staring straight into the anxious, ridiculously blue eyes of Arthur Pendragon. Instinctively, he'd leaned into the young warlock's space, catching him by the middle, and Merlin stiffened, disseminating his magic and restoring the original energy of the vibrating molecules that surrounded them—kept them both in place.

The young warlock squeezed his eyes shut as the two fell to the ground with a thud.

~o~

Merlin let out a soft groan, feeling a slight soreness at the back of his head. At least he'd managed to make the fall less painful than it should have been.

He stirred, dazedly opening his eyes, only to find soft lips pressed fully against his. At that moment, Merlin's eyes widened tenfold, and his heart was hammering in his chest.

Arthur was lying on top of Merlin, his blonde fringe brushing against Merlin's damp forehead, but Merlin didn't make a sound as the other's eyes slowly fluttered open to reveal two beautiful pools of liquid sapphire. At first, Arthur's expression seemed far-off, then apprehensive and unsure. Quickly, he pulled back from Merlin, looking apologetic at him.

"Oh..._fuck_," Arthur murmured under his breath. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry—I don't know what got into me, I—"

But Merlin only put a finger to his lips and gazed at him with shy, endearing eyes, his mouth slowly curving up into a smile that was as enchanting as the birth of a star and brighter than the heavens above. Tenderly, he slid his hands over either side of the blonde's face and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Like a kitten, Merlin purred, burrowing under Arthur's chin and wrapping his arms snugly around the other's neck.

Surprised, Arthur sucked in a gulp of air, his expression softening with warmth as he looked down at Merlin with a fond, astonished gaze. He chuckled softly, carefully pulling Merlin back just enough so that he could return the favour, closing his eyes and sighing into his dark fringe. Then Arthur wiped the tears from Merlin's cheeks and leaned his head down to brush his mouth again over the young warlock's, tentative at first, until he started to suck tenderly on Merlin's bottom lip.

Merlin let out a soft moan as he parted his lips, allowing the blonde to slide his tongue over his teeth and press him into a full-blown, fervent kiss. He gasped, grabbing at the back of Arthur's hoodie, his hands fisting around navy blue cotton fibre. And before he realised it, the blonde had somehow managed to scoop him up, pushing him against the opposite wall beside the window.

Arthur reached down to cup Merlin's arse, his thigh slipping between Merlin's legs and resting just above his cock. Merlin trembled as Arthur nipped at the shell of his ear, feeling the latter's breath hot against his skin as he lifted a shaky hand to shut the blinds to conceal the window glass. He inhaled sharply, still kissing the blonde and leading him to the nearby couch.

Arthur pulled Merlin's sweatshirt over his head and started mouthing at his neck, his slick tongue trailing slowly over his Adam's apple then down below. Merlin gasped, clutching desperately at the expanse of warm skin under Arthur's hoodie as the blonde slid his fingers along the other's stomach. Then Arthur was palming Merlin's half-hard, fully-clothed erection, making the young warlock whimper and lean desperately into the blonde's touch.

"Arthur…_oh—_" Merlin groaned, his cheekbones flushing bright red. He laced his fingers under the loops of Arthur's trousers, pulling him closer so that his own cock was brushing against his. Arthur hissed, thumbing the button of Merlin's jeans open.

"_Please._"

~o~

From his room, The Glass Man sighed, turning away from the window with a content expression on his face. "It seems that we have managed to set fate back on its rightful course," He chuckled softly, sitting down on his brown leather armchair to glance over at Gwaine, who'd presently been smirking at the television set as he watched Merlin moan and arch under the blonde's hands.

_"God—_Merlin_,"_ Arthur breathed huskily, wrapping his fingers around Merlin's quivering cock and sucking bruises into his collarbone.

Merlin choked as Arthur met him each time, his nails digging into the blonde's hips as Arthur continued to ram his prostate. Eventually, Merlin jerked his head back in abandon, his mouth gaping and eyes overflowing with want—need.

_"Ah…Arthur—fuck, yes, _yes_…"_

Their naked bodies were a tangle as Arthur slammed hard into Merlin before the two of them cried out each other's names and came at the same time.

Kil Gharrah frowned, his eyes instantly flashing gold so that the screen reverted back to its normal programming, and Gwaine uttered a sound of protest, getting up from his seat to look at the wise elder.

"Oi, I was watching that!" he griped, his countenance disgruntled.

But The Glass Man slowly shook his head, raising a hand to furrow his brow. "The blinds were turned shut for a reason, boy. Let the young warlock alone to his own business. Their 'ministrations' are not for us to ogle at." Abruptly, he shifted his gaze and narrowed his eyes at Gwaine. "And before you make any twisted comments about good deeds having their own rewards, I must remind you that because of your _appalling _obstinacy and ignorance, Camelot was nearly plunged into disaster. Consider what would have happened if Merlin had let that storm emerge into another treacherous calamity."

Gwaine cringed, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "Well, the good thing was that it didn't happen…how would I have known that Gwen wasn't getting back together with Arthur? Or better yet that Merlin was even capable of doing such a thing?"

"Shh," a voice spoke calmly from the other side of the room.

At that moment, both turned to look at Lance, who was sitting on The Glass Man's couch with Gwen sound asleep beside him. Her head was in his lap, and Lance smiled fondly at her as he tucked a curl of dark hair back behind her ear. Gwen stirred, leaning into his warm palm with a tranquil smile on her face.

~o~

Merlin lay on the couch with a content expression on his face. Arthur was sound asleep, his head resting on Merlin's bare chest and his arms wrapped snugly around the young warlock's waist.

Merlin sighed, glancing down at him fondly as he reached down to stroke Arthur's tousled, fluffy blonde hair like he was the most precious puppy ever to exist. Even now, Merlin still couldn't believe that everything that had happened was real—that the boy who he'd been smitten with all those years ago was actually here with him at his side in this musty little flat he called home. That for once, Merlin felt genuinely happy, his heart softening at the sight of the blonde—_his _blonde— nestled under the warmth of his arms.

He grinned, leaning down to kiss the top of Arthur's head. "I love you," Merlin murmured shyly, just above a hushed whisper.

Arthur hummed contentedly, nuzzling into Merlin's chest.

Merlin broke into a small fit of laughter, sliding his fingers under Arthur's fringe. But then suddenly he grew silent and his face scrunched up when he felt a funny little itch gradually building up at the back of his throat.

When Merlin sneezed, Arthur lifted his head up to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Hmmm…" He uttered disapprovingly, blinking twice as he reached over to find Merlin's forehead burning like a furnace.

When Arthur shifted his gaze to stare pointedly at the younger boy, Merlin shrugged and chuckled nervously. "Er…I wasn't wearing a jacket?" he tried.

But Arthur only heaved a sigh, slowly shaking his head. "Wait here," He muttered tiredly as he turned to climb off the couch. Just when his feet touched the hardwood floor though, he froze when he heard Merlin sneeze again and glanced back to see him shivering, his face buried in one of the pillows with an arm hopelessly outstretched towards Arthur. Arthur took a deep breath, getting up on his feet to look concernedly and incredulously at him.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Merlin—how is it that you've managed to live with yourself this whole time?"

"Mmph," Merlin uttered, his voice muffled in the cream-coloured fabric.

Arthur rolled his eyes, then reached down to yank at the blanket twisted under Merlin's legs. Merlin squawked, glancing up at him as he pulled the covers over his naked shoulders. "Honestly," Arthur huffed, "you are _by far_ the most pathetic sod this world has ever deemed to even know. Get under the covers, you."

Merlin grumbled, shifting on his side until he was wrapped snugly under the cosy, white blanket. Arthur sighed, placing a hand on Merlin's forehead again before kissing it and leaning his own forehead against his. "Don't move," he breathed, eyes affectionate. "I'll be right back." Arthur pecked him on the cheek, then got off the couch to put his trousers on and disappeared into the kitchen.

Merlin sank his head into his pillow and groaned. God, he felt disgusting.

"Meow."

In that instant, the young warlock glanced over, smiling when he saw Aithusa crawl out from under the coffee table and jump on the couch to curl up beside his feet. They must have startled her when they came in, or maybe he might have scared her off himself when he'd hurtled his satchel across the room.

Merlin chuckled, reaching down to scratch Aithusa's ears, making her purr and burrow her face into her master's gentle touch.

~o~

After what seemed like more than a while, the air was filled with the unmistakable scent of chicken noodle soup, and Merlin cracked a bleary eye open to see Arthur that had returned with a steaming hot bowl in his hands.

The blonde sat down beside him, causing Aithusa to climb off the couch, and Merlin shifted closer, his feet curled up under the blanket. Arthur took a small scoop of the broth and blew on it. "Do you know how long it took for me to find _one _can of soup in that thing that you call a _cupboard_?" He griped, offering the spoon to Merlin's mouth.

Merlin laughed, gratefully sipping the hot broth. "Well, I usually don't eat—"

"At _all,_" Arthur finished, giving Merlin another spoonful.

Merlin sputtered, pouting at him with a flustered expression on his face. "Oi! I'll have you know I have a chocolate chip scone with hot cocoa and marshmallows every morning!"

Arthur chuckled, smirking bemusedly at the younger boy. "Then it's no wonder you're ill now, is it?. You have to eat _real _food every now and then, _Mer_lin."

Playfully, Merlin stuck his tongue out at him, smiling into his pillow with bright eyes.

Arthur softened his gaze, putting the bowl of soup down on the coffee table and lying back to snuggle again beside him. Merlin trilled, leaning his head over the blonde's shoulder as Arthur wrapped his arms around him and held him gingerly like he was the most fragile thing in the world.

But truthfully and unconditionally_, _he loved him anyway.

Arthur pressed a chaste kiss on Merlin's head and sighed. "You know…" he began quietly. "…this is the first time that I've actually felt so free. To have just…just _this_, to be happy with who I am—who I'm with."

Merlin nuzzled at the blonde's nose and shifted closer to him with a fond expression on his face. "There will never be anyone here who has the right to tell you what you can and can't do," He murmured.

Arthur smiled, then pulled back to look at him with a warm, intent countenance. "If only things were always like that." He paused, running a hand up to caress Merlin's cheek and frowned. "I've been waiting for you my whole life," He uttered, just above a hushed, genuine whisper.

Merlin's breath hitched as he met Arthur's gaze with wide, impossibly blue eyes.

Arthur chuckled, sliding his hand under the other's dark fringe. "After all, how could I ever forget the little idiot who tried to get himself run over by a train?"

In that instant, Merlin stiffened, startled not only by the fact that Arthur had remembered but also that he realised that he'd always been in his thoughts since day one, just as Arthur had been in his very own. He closed his eyes and recalled, as if it had only happened yesterday, the memory of radiant morning light shining over short, golden strands that framed the kind, tranquil face of a cherub. When he looked up, Arthur was staring down at him with lively, captivating azure irises. Then the blonde turned to gaze contemplatively up at the ceiling.

"It was Morgana who told you where I worked, wasn't she?"

There was a long pause.

Merlin swallowed, looking away from him with a shy expression on his face. He opened his mouth to speak in a quiet, tentative voice. "Why did you decide to work at a place…where you can't even show yourself to other people?"

At this, Arthur shifted slightly beside him and hesitated, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Because I _can't_ ever reveal my face," The blonde replied evenly. "Especially when there's just too many that come in and out of the Camelot Funfair. I don't want to be recognised."

Merlin pursed his lips and glanced over to see Arthur laying still, his countenance unreadable. "Why do you still stay, then?" He asked.

There was another moment of silence.

Arthur sighed, sombrely looking up at the ceiling. "Because it's one place where I know I can make people happy," He spoke, barely audible. "Give them an experience that I never had from when I was young." He paused, contemplative, his eyes glistening under the dim light. "I don't always scare them half out of their wits, you know. There's usually an occasion at the end of the ride where I give the children roses to let them know I'm not just there to frighten them." He glanced at Merlin, forcing a fond smile. "_You_ only missed that part because you startled me with that stunt, you startling, unpredictable _twat_."

Merlin chuckled sheepishly, quirking a grin of his own. "Well, it wasn't my fault that you were being such a fucking tease. You were _asking _for it, you massive pillock."

Arthur smirked, but then lowered his eyes and frowned. "I guess so," He muttered halfheartedly.

Merlin looked at him, his gaze softening as Arthur's expression grew solemn again.

"Now that I think of it though…things hadn't been easy when I was a child," Arthur murmured. There was another pause, and then he closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head. "I was always forced to live under my father's expectations, act as he would as if I were nothing but a shadow of his legacy as one of Camelot's richest, most powerful men…" He sucked in a gulp of air and swallowed hard. "…and then there was that day," he whispered softly, looking at Merlin with a warm semblance. "You know, Merlin…I dare say I'm glad I met you. Even if it meant almost getting myself killed to save your sorry arse."

Merlin's cheeks flushed light pink. "Hey, now that was never my intention, you royal _prat!_ I only went down there because I wanted to find out where the bloody hell those tracks were leading to!"

"I'm sure you did," Arthur chuckled, patting him jokingly on the shoulder.

"Oi! I was rather curious as a child, I'll have you know!" Merlin retorted.

"For goodness sake, you were _gambolling_ about on your own in a place that was _swarming_ with bustling adults," Arthur laughed, eyes dancing as he met the young warlock's gaze. Then he frowned, his voice faltering. "The first time I saw you, I'll admit I was jealous. To see you just running around like that without anyone scolding you behind your back."

Merlin pouted, raising an eyebrow at him.

Arthur sighed, pensively scratching the back of his head. "But at the same time, I just…I don't know," he continued. "I still wanted to talk to you. To find out how you could have possibly been given such a priceless freedom. There was something about you, Merlin. I just couldn't put my finger on it."

Merlin bit his bottom lip, then closed his eyes. "For some odd reason, so did I," He whispered, remembering his first encounter with the blonde all too well. The unsettling memory of Uther's piercing glare began to flood his mind, and Merlin frowned. "We weren't given that much time to talk to each other, though." He swallowed hard, his voice going hoarse. "Your father—"

"My father never gave me a choice," Arthur finished with conviction, eyes burning with feeling as he spoke. "But since that day, all I wanted to do was to change that. To have a say in what I could and couldn't do. Couldn't _be_." He closed his eyes. "Eventually, that's what got me kicked out of my own house," He added, his jaw suddenly going tense.

At that moment, Merlin stiffened, his eyes bulging with disbelief. "Wait—_what_?"

Arthur fell silent, his voice growing painfully soft. "Well, at first...I thought that perhaps he'd made a mistake," He murmured slowly, "That he'd only just been angry and didn't mean what he'd done." He opened his eyes, staring intently at the other side of the room. "But when I found out he'd done the same to Morgana after that," he spoke through gritted teeth. "I made sure he never found me again. Which was also why I barely showed myself in crowded spaces. Always kept my head down low in case Father's associates would be roaming around."

Merlin frowned, looking at the blonde with an incredulous expression. "You're his son, though. Why would he even _do_ that to you? To Morgana?"

Arthur heaved a sharp exhale. "Because he found out I liked blokes as much as girls," he spat out, his hands balling up into tight fists. "And because he'd found out about Morgana and her girlfriend..."

In that instant, Merlin paused, his gaze softening with realisation. "That blonde woman at the record store…"

"Her name is Morgause," Arthur sighed. "And yes, she is Morgana's significant other, no matter how much she likes to scare the crap out of me." He cringed at that statement. "She makes Morgana happy at the very least, which is bloody good enough."

Merlin chuckled nervously, recalling the fierceness in Morgause's cold, dark eyes and the intimidating look she'd given him after she'd heard about Cenred in his conversation with Morgana days ago. "Me too, I guess…"

Arthur grinned, slowly shaking his head at him. "I also shouldn't forget that she'd been the one who'd rented me a flat, even though Morgana had said it would have been perfectly fine if I'd slept at their place." He laughed. "I'm not even sure how I could have pulled _that_ one off without making it look awkward to the landlord himself…" He shrugged. "But at least we both had a place where we could all move on with our lives."

Merlin broke into his own fit of laughter.

Arthur chuckled at him, then fell silent once more, his face growing sad. "…I only wish that our mother had come looking for us, though," he murmured softly.

Empathetic, Merlin placed a hand over the blonde's shoulder. "I'm sure she did."

Arthur frowned, shifting his gaze away from him. "She didn't find us, though," he croaked, voice faltering. "And because of what happened recently…I know for sure that she never will."

At that moment, a certain headline started to tug at Merlin's memory—one from weeks ago that flashed breaking news on his television screen and then a photograph of a familiar, strikingly elegant woman with blue eyes and a winsome smile. A beautiful blonde who, the young warlock now wondered, could very well have been…

"You don't mean," Merlin suddenly found himself blurting out, "that your mother is Ygraine _Pendragon? _That you're the heir to _Uther Pendragon, _the CEO of one of the biggest corporate businesses on the _planet_?"

There was a long silence.

After a few seconds, Merlin sucked in a gulp of air. "Oh shit," he exhaled, realising instantly what he'd just said and feeling like a complete, utter fool. "Oh—Arthur, I had no idea—"

But the blonde only sighed and put his hand over Merlin's before giving it a gentle squeeze. "The last time I'd heard about her," He began quietly, staring straight into the other's eyes, "She'd divorced my father when he'd been planning to disown the two of us." He grimaced a little as he spoke those last few words. "Then a few weeks later, I turned on my television set to see what had happened."

Merlin winced, leaning close to comfortingly wrap his other arm around Arthur. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, remorseful.

Arthur's face fell as he turned to look meaningfully at their intertwined fingers. "You know, during the days I'd spent roaming around by myself—before I'd even bumped into Morgana on the streets…there had always been that faint sliver of hope that someone would come looking for me." He frowned, then closed his eyes again. "But when no one did, I'd begun to think that perhaps I really was the problem. So I'd started seeing more girls, making reckless decisions." His breath hitched. "Although Gwen, on another matter, was completely different from the rest." He cleared his throat, his voice more hushed and repentant. "If anything, she'd become one of my closest friends back then…but nothing more than just that," Arthur mused, "which, of course, was how we'd ended up falling out in the end."

Merlin could only shoot him a compassionate glance. "It's not your fault," he murmured. "There's nothing wrong with what your heart says."

Arthur exhaled sharply, raising their hands to press a fervent kiss to Merlin's wrist. "None of them were the same," he continued, in that same calm, collected tone. "It was as if every time I wanted to go down another path, regardless of what I did, it led me straight back to you." He shifted his gaze to look into the young warlock's scintillating, cerulean eyes. "Whether I was fully aware of it or not," he chuckled, quirking a rueful grin. "It had always been bloody _you_. Do you know how many times I'd tried searching for you since _that_ morning at the train station when we were still holding hands?"

Merlin smirked at the blonde, his cheeks flushing with amusement and disbelief. "No."

Arthur rolled his eyes at him. "Well, now you do."

Merlin laughed, then sighed. "Camelot's a big world, though," he murmured, staring up at the ceiling. "I doubt you would have found me then by yourself."

Arthur smiled smugly, messing up the young warlock's hair. "But after all those years…I still did, didn't I?"

"You mean, _I _found you first," Merlin chuckled, beaming at the blonde. "Or better yet..." he trailed off, looking at Arthur with a fond expression. "Well, I guess you can say we found each other."

Arthur snorted. "With me rummaging under a photo machine like a hobo, sure."

"And running after mystery men in photo albums," Merlin added, gibing.

"Because that album was the only thing I knew for sure that I could ever put back together,"Arthur laughed, slowly shaking his head. He frowned, following Merlin's gaze towards the ceiling. "_G__od, _my life's been fucked up as it is, hasn't it? Even though everyone tells me it's not my fault," he murmured as an afterthought.

At that moment, Merlin grew gravely silent, those last few words tugging hard at his heartstrings, making him stiffen beside the blonde.

_Not your fault_, the phrase reverberated through the corners of the young warlock's mind.

In an instant, Arthur froze and looked at him with genuine concern, but Merlin didn't dare to meet his gaze.

Instead, he closed his eyes and rolled on his other side, diverting his stare away from Arthur.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered quietly, placing his hand comfortingly on the other's shoulder.

Merlin didn't respond. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as he began to hear the howling winds of his darkened past, the screams of his helpless neighbours all over again. Then he opened his eyes, glancing aimlessly down at the floor with a solemn expression on his face.

"I have to show you something," He murmured after a while.

There was a deafening moment of silence.

Slowly, Merlin looked up, and Arthur watched curiously as the young warlock faced the window where they could both catch a glimpse of orange leaves start to fall from the nearest branch.

Before the blonde could say anything though, Merlin's irises suddenly flashed gold, suspending one of the leaves in mid-air. Arthur inhaled sharply, his eyes darting from him to the window.

Then little by little, Merlin released his grasp on the ethereal curtain of time and let it flow through the air again.

Arthur gaped, blinking twice. "Merlin—you…"

Merlin turned to meet his gaze with a diffident expression. Then carefully he let go of Arthur's hand to turn his palm to reveal a tiny butterfly with iridescent wings the colour of the most majestic sapphire. Gracefully, it fluttered into the space between them before disappearing in a ray of marvellous, sparkling light.

Arthur looked at Merlin with wide eyes, awed and disbelieving.

Dismal, the young warlock lowered his gaze. "You're not the only one who's had a fucked up childhood," he uttered softly.

There was a moment of silence. "You're a sorcerer," Arthur breathed.

Merlin sucked in a gulp of air at the tension in the other's tone, expecting Arthur to shove him off the couch and leave at any given time. When he looked up to meet the blonde's gaze though, he was surprised to see nothing but warm admiration in the blonde's semblance.

"I was wondering why that car hadn't run me over when I was chasing that boy," Arthur spoke, his voice contemplative, "or why that photograph was able to talk to me before. Or why we hadn't cracked both our heads open on the floor when you'd lost your balance earlier..."

"You don't know how many times I've saved your life," He muttered, the words unconsciously spilling from his mouth. At that, the young warlock's breath hitched, and quickly he looked away from Arthur. "You know magic exists, then?" he uttered in a choked, barely audible whisper.

Arthur frowned, staring at him with bemused eyes. "Of course I do," he replied evenly. "When I was small, Mother's clients had always been wizards. She was fond of—"

Merlin swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Then you should know I'm nothing at all like them."

At that moment, an unsettled silence fell between them.

Merlin exhaled sharply, shakily turning to glance back at him. "I'm sure they haven't used their magic to _hurt _people," he croaked, wincing as he spoke each word. "To _break _things. To wipe out half a fucking _town.._."

For a second, Arthur knitted his eyebrows together as he tried hard to understand what the other had said. But then, in the next instant, the blonde stiffened, his eyes widening as the first thing that came to his mind was a single, bolded name that filled all the newspapers during the days when he'd ride home from school. "No…_Ealdor?_" Arthur asked, his eyes widening with shock. "_You_ wiped out Ealdor? But…that's not possible. A storm ripped that place apart. You couldn't have—"

Merlin shuddered, guilt rippling through his veins and reopening old wounds that had taken far too long to heal. "It was me," he choked out in a ragged breath. "The hurricane was all _my _doing. Don't tell me it wasn't my fault. I could have very well harmed you, too, if you had been there at the time."

Arthur gulped, eyes intent and uneasy on the young warlock. "But you couldn't have been more than five back then," he murmured, looking incredulously at Merlin. "You don't mean that—it wasn't on purpose?"

Merlin sniffled, slowly shaking his head. "It was an accident," he replied. "I didn't know what was going on. More so, I couldn't figure out why the winds had even come in the first place, or why my parents hadn't answered when I'd cried for them when I'd been all alone in the darkness of my room." He frowned, looking at the blonde with bloodshot eyes. "For several days after that accident, I was lost." He paused. "But unlike you, I didn't _have_ someone to turn to at the time."

At this point, hot tears were rolling down Merlin's cheeks, and the young warlock was trembling.

Immediately, Arthur scooped the young warlock into his arms and stroked his back soothingly. "Shhh…Merlin…"

"I'm a _monster, _Arthur_. _I always have been…" Merlin wept, burying his face into Arthur's chest. "To this point, no matter how hard I try, I still don't have full control of my magic." He sucked in a gulp of air and took a deep breath. "The rain from earlier…"

In that instant, Arthur felt a jolt go through his spine as he remembered the racking sobs he'd heard after he'd knocked on the young warlock's door. His lips pressed into a hard line as he realised how the ominous squall that had loomed over Camelot's sky just moments ago…

…hadn't been caused by nature.

Arthur cradled Merlin, kissing the top of his head. "It's all right," he whispered softly. "It's all right…I'm here…"

Merlin sniffled, clutching at Arthur's hoodie. At that moment, Arthur's eyes softened as he saw that he was never, after all, the only broken soul in this forsaken world. Unthinkingly, he found himself massaging the back of Merlin's earlobes with his fingers until the young warlock's sobs gradually subsided into hiccups. Arthur didn't even know what had brought him to perform this oddly endearing—and faintly reminiscent, he added as an afterthought—vagary, but it comforted Merlin, and that was all that mattered to him.

Gwen was more than right to say how very fragile this boy's heart was. He stroked Merlin's cheek and tilted his chin up with his forefinger so that he looked at him with warm eyes. "Merlin, look at me. You are _not_ dangerous," he spoke. "You are not a monster. Even if it was you who did it, you…you never intended for that to happen. _Any_ of it."

Arthur paused, glancing down at Merlin, who lay still in his arms.

"Gwaine told me what happened earlier," Arthur added after a while, his voice hoarse. Merlin stiffened beside him, not meeting his gaze. Arthur's countenance grew remorseful. "He came barging in just as Lance put the master set of keys in my hand." He looked at the young warlock and frowned, his expression pained. "Now that was _my _fault—I had no idea I was ever going to hurt you like this."

Merlin inhaled sharply. "No." he muttered, snuggling against Arthur's chest. "_I'm_ sorry. It was all just one big, stupid misunderstanding."

Arthur patted his shoulder. "Don't be," he whispered. "It's okay to feel." He frowned, pressing his lips tenderly against Merlin's temple. "I promise I'd never do anything to hurt you. Ever."

Merlin sniffled, closing his eyes, and another long silence followed soon after that.

Then Arthur heard Merlin speak, barely audible.

"I'm glad I met you, too," Merlin murmured quietly. "That day," he sniffled. "If it hadn't been for you—even if we'd been together for such a short time…" He paused. "I don't know where I would have ended up. What I'd be."

Arthur took a deep breath, his fingers tracing invisible patterns along Merlin's skin. "Same here," he uttered softly.

There was a long silence.

Merlin sniffed, opening his mouth to speak again, but only ended up letting out another sneeze. He whined at the terrible congestion in his poor nasal cavities. But then to his own surprise—

"_Ah-choo!_"

In that instant, Merlin jumped back to see the blonde grudgingly rubbing at his nose with his wrist.

"Oh, _god,_ in a few days, I'm going to be the one who's sick," Arthur groaned.

Merlin laughed, smiling as wide as the ocean. "You know you love me, you prat."

Arthur chuckled, looking at Merlin with warm eyes. "I do," he murmured fondly, reaching down to caress the young warlock's cheek. "More than anything."

They both sighed, gazing at each other as if the gleam of one another's eyes were brilliant comets shooting across spacious skies of the vast world that Merlin had always dreamt of exploring when he was a child. A world that, in time, slowly became Arthur Pendragon's while the blonde himself found that his only sanctuary resided in the everlasting warmth of his warlock's heart.

When Arthur leaned down to kiss Merlin's forehead, Merlin nuzzled his neck, purring as he wrapped his arms around the expanse of the blonde's chest.

~o~

That night, Merlin slept soundly beside Arthur and dreamed he was on a boat riding in the midst of a thick fog.

He closed his eyes and sighed, hearing nothing but the calming sound of the waves and feeling the soft breeze against his face. He'd never felt so free before, yet at the same time, there was still that slight ache at the bottom of his heart—like something was missing.

It hit Merlin when he looked down to see the painfully empty spaces between his fingers where another person's would fit perfectly. He winced, putting his hand to the side and looking up at the hazy mist billowing before him: a mysterious veil that separated two different realms.

He wondered how long this dream would last—hopefully not as long as any of his previous nightmares. For once, he just wanted to feel at peace without waking up like usual in a cold sweat.

That was when he felt an unknown set of fingers wrapping comfortingly around his wrist and shuddered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

A small voice from deep within Merlin's mind, one that had long been lost to the sands of time, started to convince him that it was nothing more than a fleeting memory of the past rising up from his imagination. Words alone couldn't express the fear Merlin felt welling up in his chest—the fear of looking back and having his heart broken all over again.

However, just as the young warlock was about to glance over his shoulder, the hand gave his forearm a gentle squeeze and stopped him short with unmistakable warmth, making his breath hitch. He swallowed hard and listened to the angelic, reassuring voice that whispered to him from afar:

"_We'll go together."_

And in his dream, Merlin opened his eyes, only to be engulfed by a dazzling white light.


	10. Epilogue

**Rhyme of Another Autumn**

.::.*~_EPILOGUE_~*.::.

The time was 12:00 p.m. Daylight elucidated the streets of Camelot, which were presently filled with the chatting voices of the roaming townspeople. At the local bakery, the pastry chef had just taken out a chocolate soufflé fresh from the oven—the sweet, succulent smell captivating the appetites of nearby customers while at the same moment, a mother bird returned to its nest, where its newly hatched offspring waited eagerly and hungrily from up high on the branch of a redwood tree. Meanwhile, a small group of children was playing tag near one of the apartment buildings, outside of which a newly formed couple could be seen laughing with one another by the fruit stand that was now called Légumes du Lac.

Lancelot was holding Gwen in his arms, placing the box of cherries he was holding down on the wooden counter to press a tender kiss to her soft cheek.

Ensconced by the far windowsill of his flat, The Glass Man was finally adding the finishing touch to his long-awaited masterpiece, his eyes warm and focused on the boy with the glass. The young man's complexion seemed completely different now, a radiant smile spread full across his face and his cheeks rosy with delight, but more so, he was no longer standing alone at the edge of the bustling crowd with the glass concealing part of his shy semblance. Instead, he was holding hands with a blond-haired boy who wore the most winsome expression, in a special world of their own apart from the surrounding townsfolk.

Kil Gharrah smiled, glancing at the building across to gaze softly at the window leading to the flat opposite from his.

In the meantime, outside the Twin Dragons Café, Gwaine was busy smoking a cigarette as he kept track of another girl, who, he realised from looking at her personalised bag, went by the name of Eira and had short, platinum blond hair.

"Elegant blonde, 5'5", don't know if she's from heaven or not…"

Whispering surreptitiously into his tape recorder like he always did, he watched her closely as she walked out the door past him, then smirked with his own amusement. Although he turned around to see a lofty, muscular man coming up the sidewalk, dressed in what looked like a police uniform, and Gwaine flinched, inadvertently dropping the voice recorder on the pavement.

"Damn," He muttered under his breath, stiffening and meeting the man's gaze as he came clearer into view.

However, once he saw a rainbow emblem sewn onto the latter's breast pocket, things weren't as they seemed to Gwaine at all.

Percival, dressed in his official Camelot Funfair guard uniform, had just been walking by on his way to work when suddenly out of nowhere, a tape recorder landed right next to his feet. He eyed it confusedly for a moment then stopped to pick it up, staring at Gwaine inquisitively with a raised eyebrow.

At this, Gwaine gave a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

Last but not the least, Gaius had done a surprisingly great deal of packing at home, a pair of suitcases left outside on the front porch. It wasn't long before the elderly man emerged in his hat and coat to lock the door, picking his belongings up and stepping down onto the stone path. But that was when he saw the mailman walk by and lodge a small, curious parcel between two of the bars in the front gate.

In that instant, Gaius walked right over and promptly put his suitcases down to pick the manila envelope up in his hands. It was rather odd, he found, that it wasn't even labelled with a name or address, but he opened it anyway, only to find a familiar-looking inhaler taped to a peculiar-looking piece of paper. When Gaius removed the tape from the inhaler though, he made an intrigued sound at the note that was written at the very centre of the page and knew exactly who the parcel had come from.

_I'm all better now, _the note read. _–M_

At first, Gaius knitted his eyebrows together as he tried hard to comprehend the meaning behind the short, unexpected message, but then he turned the paper over, and his eyes softened with understanding in the second he saw a picture of none other than his former ward, Merlin, who'd looked significantly happier than Gaius had ever seen him before, was grinning beside a dashing, affable young blonde in a candid photo.

Gaius chuckled at the heart-warming sight, carefully placing everything back into the large manila envelope. Then he slipped it in his suitcase and walked past the gate doors to signal for a taxi.

"Where to?" The driver asked, getting out to open the trunk of the car.

Gaius gave a cordial, decisive smile, walking over with both of his bags in hand. "To the airport, my lad."

~o~

The cool breeze felt exhilarating on Merlin's face as he and Arthur rode through the long and winding streets of Camelot. Without a doubt, Excalibur was a motorbike built for speed, and Merlin watched the world around him turn into a blend of vibrant colour, his arms wrapped tightly around the blonde's waist.

The two of them were laughing, pulling faces at each other as they zoomed past the Cathedral of Gedref. Arthur smirked, suddenly making a sharp turn on Caerleon Corner, and Merlin squawked, his hands springing up and covering the blonde's eyes.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, amused and incredulous. "Merlin—we're most _certainly_ going to crash if I can't see anything!"

Merlin sputtered, throwing his arms back around Arthur's torso. "You almost threw me off!"

Arthur laughed, glancing over his shoulder to look at him. "That's why you're supposed to hold on to me! Especially when it's your first time!"

"I am, you massive prat!" Merlin griped, squeezing Arthur's stomach with his arms for emphasis. "We're just going too fast! Are you absolutely sure you know what you're doing?"

"I've been riding Excalibur for _far_ too long not to!" Arthur chuckled. "Besides—we're already going a whole lot slower than we should be!"

Before Merlin could protest, they very gracelessly hit a speed bump, and he gaped at the blonde with wide eyes, almost bulging from their sockets as if he were a cartoon character about to get hit with a truckload of dynamite. "Are you _mad_, Pendragon?"

Arthur quirked a mischievous smile and sighed. "Would you like me to let go of the handlebars and see?" he asked, glancing down at his knuckles with a daring expression on his face.

"No!" Merlin giggled, immediately reaching forward to wrap his fingers over Arthur's wrists. "Oh god, no! Keep your hands where they are, Evil Knievel!"

Arthur laughed, beaming at him with a warm gaze and then pressing a kiss to Merlin's cheek.

Merlin grinned fondly, leaning his head on the blonde's shoulder and closing his eyes. Of course he trusted Arthur. For the first time in his whole life, Merlin felt safe as they rode off into the distant horizon.

~o~

A few moments later, Arthur stopped when they'd reached a quiet wood and parked Excalibur at the edge of the forest. From that point onward, the two continued their walk on foot.

For some reason, however, Merlin started to get the strangest feeling in his stomach—like he'd seen this place before, even though he really hadn't.

…or otherwise thought he hadn't.

"Arthur, where are we going?" Merlin asked, glancing around curiously at the towering trees.

Arthur didn't falter in his stride. "I want to show you something," he replied in a hushed voice that Merlin couldn't read. "You'll see."

Confused, Merlin frowned, following him into a nearby clearing.

~o~

Gradually, a small, quaint cabin came into view among the tall grass and shrubs, and Arthur slowed down just a few feet away to let Merlin catch up from behind him.

There was a long, deafening silence, and Merlin frowned, looking at Arthur with a perplexed countenance.

"Where are we?" The young warlock whispered softly.

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. "My second home," He replied in a dull, even tone. He kept walking, gazing at the old cottage with wistful eyes.

"When Father kicked me out of our estate," Arthur began, glancing over at Merlin. "This was the first place I ended up staying at before I'd gotten word about Morgana." He winced, darting his gaze back at the faded glass of the cabin's ramshackle windows. "I don't remember why I chose this place, but for some reason, it always brought me comfort when I was a boy. I'd found it the first time I ran away from home—the only place where things were quiet, where I knew no one was there to yell at me for my mistakes," he spoke with a reminiscent, sombre smile on his lips. "Since then, I'd often used it as a hideout whenever there were times that I'd just wanted to get away from it all." He took a deep breath, slowly shaking his head. "After that day though, it became a makeshift dwelling for me."

Merlin's eyes softened on Arthur, then shifted towards the dilapidated cabin. Time had worn out its walls, leathery jade-green moss growing over the damp logs. At the same time, the sense of familiarity that Merlin had been feeling before only continued to burn stronger, a sharp, unexplainable chill running through his spine. There was something about the cabin that made his heart ache with unbearable grief.

In the next second, however, his attention was completely averted by the slightest glimpse of a nearby lake.

While Arthur went on to check the inside of the abandoned bungalow, Merlin wandered off into the tall grass. After pulling back a few reeds, he was standing at the edge of a vast lake, its waters as clear as crystal and an eerie mist hovering just over its surface.

At that moment, Merlin froze, slowly looking up to see the faint sight of a tall, ancient tower overlooking the pond from afar on a mountainous island the colour of emeralds, and soon only one word came forth from the darkest depths of his subconscious:

_Avalon._

All of a sudden, the young warlock gasped, overtaken by a prominent memory that burned into his mind.

He was in the meadow again, sobbing and cradling a fallen friend in his arms. Who had been his destiny since the beginning of time and had, once upon a golden age, ruled the fairest, most powerful empire. Who the Great Dragon himself had said was the Once and Future King and who he'd promised would rise again when Albion was at its finest. Who, now that Merlin could better see his dull, ashen semblance, went by the name of Arthur Pendragon.

"_Just hold me…" _the blonde whispered, clutching weakly at the young warlock's arms. "_Please…_"

Merlin felt tears welling up over his cheeks as he remembered the faint, fleeting light in Arthur's ocean blue eyes and the scarlet stain on his ravaged chain mail; then his imagination started to overflow with colourful, vivid images:

He and Arthur venturing into the Valley of the Fallen Kings and fighting off a ring of bandits.

He and Arthur bickering over a plate of sausages that had miraculously disappeared to god knows where.

He and Arthur exchanging surreptitious, meaningful glances by a campfire in the dead of night.

He and Arthur wandering into empty castle chambers and making sweet love to one another under dim moonlight.

He and Arthur embracing in the middle of the wood after being separated for what had once felt like an agonising amount of time but had been nowhere near compared to the dreadful fate that they would encounter much later on in life.

While all this was happening, Merlin could hear the blonde's faltering voice.

"_Everything you've done. I know now_," it resonated in the back of Merlin's mind. "_For me…for Camelot…_" There was a long pause. "_I want to say something I've never said to you before._"

At that moment, an intense vision of Merlin casting Arthur's funeral boat out onto the water came forth and then flashed to a painful image of an older version of the young warlock gazing forlornly at the mysterious obelisk in the distance.

"_Thank you,_" Arthur's voice echoed, making Merlin choke and his insides turn.

Suddenly, however, Merlin's mind snapped back to reality at the sound of a branch breaking. He gasped, whirling around to see the blonde himself standing not far behind.

Arthur exhaled sharply, looking at him with wide eyes, almost frightened as if he'd just seen a ghost_._

But Merlin's own only softened with melancholia. "You saw it, too," he murmured, shifting his gaze to the ground.

Arthur stepped out of the tall grass and slowly moved towards Merlin until his arms were wrapped tightly around his waist. "I'd always thought they were dreams," he muttered into Merlin's ear. "Every night…every night, I'd always see you in them, but your face would be so blurry that I never understood…"

Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Me, too," he sighed, knowing all too well. He gulped when he felt Arthur shift uneasily against him.

"A thousand years," the blonde croaked, hugging Merlin close to his chest. "A thousand fucking years of…" Arthur let out a ragged sigh, leaning his face into Merlin's hair. "Merlin…Merlin, I'm _so _sorry…"

Merlin's expression softened. He reached his hand up to give Arthur's fingers a gentle squeeze. "Don't," he whispered back, turning to wrap Arthur in a warm embrace. "Don't be—none of it was your fault. And it never will be."

"I don't want to lose you again," Arthur murmured, his tone full of anguish and anxiety. "Not now. Not ever."

Merlin fell silent, stroking the small of Arthur's back. "Without you…today's tomorrow would be the scurf of yesterday's," He began, in a hushed, affectionate voice. "But me…" He sniffs, leaning his head against Arthur's neck. "I'll always be here for you, Arthur. For as long as it takes, I will wait. Always—no matter what happens."

Arthur sighed, pulling back to press his forehead against Merlin's, and stared at him with a longing, unreadable gaze. "Always."

Merlin smiled, then calmly backed away from the blonde and reached down to pick up a smooth stone from the sodden ground beside them.

Arthur's expression became amused as Merlin smirked, giving the pebble a gentle toss, leaving a path of fleeting ripples as it skidded across the surface of the lake.

"I remember Morgana told me before that you always collected the best stones from different places just so you could skip them," Merlin laughed as he turned around to see the other's disbelieving countenance.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, and the young warlock grinned, bending down to pick up another rock. Before Merlin could throw it though, Arthur slid his hand over Merlin's wrist and leaned his chin over his shoulder. Then slowly, they tossed it together, and Arthur smiled, pressing a kiss to Merlin's temple while they watched the pebble skip far into the billowing mist.

If by fate, they ever did get separated again, Merlin would wait as long as the sun shone high in the sky, and the seasons continued to change, and the wind continued to blow past the towering trees…because then he would know for sure that someday they would find each other once more.

Because it was destiny that Arthur and Merlin, the King and his lion heart, were together at that moment.

Because their love was a timeless, ineffable echo that resounded long beyond the temperate, ethereal waters of the Lake of Avalon.

**~END~**

* * *

**Kit's Notes~**

The title of the fic is based on an instrumental composed by Yann Tiersen from the original Amelie soundtrack. It's called Comptine d'un autre ete : L'apres Midi (Rhyme of Another Summer - Afternoon), and it's included as Arthur's theme in the fanmix made for this fic, which can be downloaded at the LJ masterpost. :)

Thanks again to everyone who helped/supported me in writing this fic, and to you guys for reading! It was a pleasure writing for you all this one last time, and I'll miss each and every one of you who have always been following me here! Farewell! ^_^

_(Reviews are much appreciated! :D)_

~Kit


End file.
